The dim glow of the hospital lights barely pierced the darkness of the night as Vincenzo's car screeched into the parking lot. His hands were slick with sweat, his pulse hammering in his temples as he struggled to keep his composure. The weight of Vanessa's condition had almost drained him completely, but he could feel the final remnants of strength clinging to him as he rushed to the entrance.
Vanessa was barely conscious, her head resting against his shoulder as he half-carried her into the emergency room. The blood on her hands was a stark reminder of the danger they faced—of the life they were fighting for.
"Please," Vincenzo gasped to the receptionist. "She's bleeding. She needs help—now."
A nurse quickly took Vanessa from his arms and guided her into the back. Vincenzo was left standing in the stark, sterile hallway, his body shaking from exhaustion. He slumped against the wall, his mind whirling in a daze. He could feel the coldness creeping back over him, his limbs heavy as the sickness began to take hold again.
He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breath, but the fear gnawing at him wouldn't let up. The sound of a door creaking open jolted him back to reality.
"Mr. De Luca?"
Vincenzo's eyes snapped open. He hadn't heard anyone approach, but standing before him was a woman dressed in a long black coat. She was tall, with raven-black hair and an air of confidence that radiated from her every step. Her eyes were sharp and calculating, and as they locked onto him, Vincenzo's breath hitched. He didn't recognize her, but the familiarity in her gaze sent a chill through him.
"Yes?" Vincenzo's voice was hoarse, his throat dry. The coldness in his limbs was becoming unbearable now.
"I'm Dr. Seraphina Voss," she said, her tone cool, but not unkind. "I'm the one overseeing your wife's care."
Vincenzo's eyes narrowed at the mention of 'wife.' "Vanessa is not my wife," he corrected her.
The doctor's lips curled into a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Forgive me. Old habits die hard." She paused for a moment, her eyes scanning him. "But that's not why I'm here. I have something important to discuss with you."
Vincenzo's instincts flared, the sharpness in his gaze matching the caution in his posture. "What is it?" he asked, his voice firm, even though his body was close to collapsing.
"Your condition," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The illness that has been affecting you—it's not a natural disease. It's something else entirely. A side effect, if you will."
Vincenzo's breath caught in his chest. His mind raced. "What are you talking about?"
Dr. Voss's eyes flickered to the hallway, checking for eavesdroppers before she leaned in closer. "You were exposed to something during your last mission. A substance, something powerful, and it's affecting your mind and body in ways you couldn't have anticipated. I believe it's a chemical compound, a rare form of neurotoxin, but it's not like anything I've ever seen before."
Vincenzo felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, but he gripped the wall for support. "Are you telling me this was all caused by a chemical?"
She nodded. "I believe it was designed to manipulate your brain chemistry. It's making your episodes worse, causing the coldness, the tremors. It's a form of mind control, not unlike a virus, but more targeted. Whoever did this to you had access to highly specialized knowledge. And I'm afraid the worst is yet to come."
Vincenzo's chest tightened with fear. "Who could have done this to me?"
Dr. Voss's eyes flashed with something unreadable. "That's the part I can't tell you just yet. But I have a theory… and it's a dangerous one."
Before she could elaborate, a loud crash echoed from the other side of the hospital. The sound of shouting filled the air, and it wasn't long before the faint sound of footsteps, heavy and deliberate, reverberated through the hallways.
Vincenzo's body tensed. "What is that?"
The doctor's expression grew cold. "We have company," she said simply, her hand slipping into her coat. "Stay here. Don't move. I'll handle this."
But before he could protest, Dr. Voss was already disappearing down the hallway, her long coat fluttering behind her. Vincenzo didn't have time to question what was going on. He pushed himself off the wall, ignoring the dizziness and the weakness in his limbs, and followed her.
As he rounded a corner, the sight before him froze him in his tracks.
A group of heavily armed men stood in the hallway, their expressions grim. At their center was a tall, muscular man with a scar running down his left cheek. His eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating fury as he surveyed the area.
Vincenzo's heart raced. He recognized them instantly—the Red Fangs, a rival organization that had been growing in power over the last few months. They were ruthless, with ties to several illegal operations throughout the country. But it wasn't just their presence that worried him—it was the fact that they had no reason to be here.
One of the men turned, his gaze locking with Vincenzo's. Recognition flickered in his eyes. "Well, well," the man sneered. "Look who decided to show up. Vincenzo De Luca, always where he's not wanted."
The tension in the air was palpable. Vincenzo's hand instinctively hovered near the gun at his side, but he held off. He needed information, not bloodshed—not yet.
"What do you want?" Vincenzo demanded, his voice low but dangerous.
The man with the scar stepped forward. "We're here to settle a score," he said, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "And it looks like you've been causing a bit of trouble lately."
Vincenzo didn't flinch, but his mind raced. This wasn't a coincidence. They know about me—and Vanessa. But why now?
Just as the tension reached its peak, Dr. Voss emerged from the shadows, her face a mask of calm, though her eyes gleamed with something more. "You're making a mistake," she said, her voice sharp. "I'd suggest you leave while you still can."
The Red Fangs paused, and the scarred man's eyes narrowed. "And who are you?"
Dr. Voss smiled, her gaze unwavering. "I'm someone who's done a lot more than you realize."
A flicker of recognition passed through the Red Fang leader's eyes, but he quickly masked it. He glanced at his men, signaling them to prepare for a confrontation. The tension between the two factions was about to explode—but it was clear: there was more to this encounter than either side was letting on.
Vincenzo, his body still wracked with weakness from the illness, knew this was just the beginning. They're here for something. But what?