The main auditorium of Saint Jude’s Medical Center felt less like a clinical lecture hall and more like a high-stakes execution chamber.
Flanked by bank upon bank of bright studio floodlights, three neutral, board-certified chief geneticists sat behind a long oak table in the center of the stage. High-definition screens behind them displayed live laboratory feeds, ready to run a real-time Polymerase Chain Reaction (PCR) panel on full closed-circuit television.
Every senior member of the Vane Syndicate Board sat in the front three rows. Opposite them sat Don Moretti, flanked by his remaining legal counsel. He looked ten years older, his collar visibly loose around his neck, his eyes fixed on the stage floor.
The side doors swung open.
Viktor stepped through, his expression cold as grani
