CHASE
The squeal of rubber echoed through the underground parking bay of the Silverfang hospital. The black sedan slammed to a halt under the harsh fluorescent lights, dragging a broken bumper against the concrete.
Jagged shards of glass clung to the window frames. My security detail rushed forward, pulling the doors open to drag three bloody men out of the ruined vehicle.
Stepping into the sterile trauma room a few minutes later, the stench of copper and antiseptic burned my nose. The lead messenger sat on a stainless steel gurney. His face looked like raw meat. Purple bruises swelled his eyes shut, and his jaw hung at a sickening, unnatural angle. Doctors moved frantically around the room, shining penlights and barking medical codes, but I waved them away.
"Clear the room," I order
