Chapter 4 - Rosalie Wakes
The ICU room was quiet save for the rhythmic hiss of the mechanical ventilator and the dull beep of the telemetry unit.
I pulled a sterile chair up to the side of the bed. Taking Rosalie’s right hand—the only part of her upper body that wasn't wrapped in plaster or thick gauze—I brought her bruised knuckles to my lips. Her skin was cold, but beneath it, I could feel the faint, stubborn pulse of her heart.
“I’m here, Rose,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion that no battlefield had ever drawn out of me. “I’m home. Nobody is ever going to touch you again.”
For ten minutes, I sat in the dim light, holding her hand, willing my own strength into her veins.
Then, her eyelids fluttered.
It was a slow, agonizing movement. She groaned beneath the plastic tube in her throat, her fingers twitching against my palm.
“Easy, sweetheart,” I said softly, standing up and leaning over her so my face was the first thing she saw. “Don't try to move. You’re safe. You’re at St. Jude’s. The whole hospital is under my guard.”
Rosalie’s hazel eyes, clouded with painkillers and exhaustion, slowly focused on me. A single tear escaped the corner of her swollen left eye, tracking down her bruised cheek.
She couldn't speak through the intubation tube, but her gaze spoke volumes. Relief. Anguish. Love.
Dr. Higgins, who had entered quietly behind me accompanied by two military medics, stepped forward. “Her intracranial pressure has dropped significantly over the past two hours, Captain. The bleeding has stopped. We can safely remove the tube to let her breathe independently for a few minutes.”
“Do it,” I said.
With practiced precision, Dr. Higgins and the respiratory therapist unlocked the restraints and gently pulled the endotracheal tube from her throat.
Rosalie coughed weakly, wincing as the movement sent shockwaves of pain through her broken ribs. I supported her head, feeding her small sips of water through a straw until her breathing leveled out.
“Alex...” she rasped, her voice barely a whisper, ragged and dry.
“I’m right here, Rose.”
“You... you came back,” she breathed, her trembling fingers curling around my combat jacket. “They told me... Mother said your unit was wiped out in an ambush... she said you were dead...”
A white-hot rage flared in my chest, but I kept my expression completely gentle. “It was a lie, Rose. A deliberate disinformation feed they fed you to make you feel isolated. I’m alive. And I brought the entire brigade with me.”
A faint, broken smile appeared on her lips, followed immediately by panic. “Alex... the drive... she wants the drive...”
“Julian already confessed,” I said, stroking her hair away from her forehead. “He told me about the cartel accounts. He told me everything.”
“Not... not just the cartel,” Rosalie struggled to say, each word costing her immense effort. “Mother... she didn't just launder money. She contracted the hit on your father ten years ago, Alex.”
The room seemed to freeze.
The air vanished from my lungs.
My father, General Marcus Sinclair, had supposedly died in a civilian helicopter crash in the mountains outside this very city a decade ago. It was the event that had driven me to enlist, to disappear into the black world of covert operations.
“What did you say?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
“Your father... discovered Miller Capital’s treason back then,” Rosalie whispered, tears freely flowing now. “Catherine sabotaged his aircraft. She kept the black box in her personal vault as a trophy. She’s a monster, Alex. She destroyed your family... and she tried to destroy us.”
Rosalie’s monitor began to beep rapidly as her heart rate spiked with distress.
“Breathe, Rose,” I commanded gently, kissing her forehead. “Look at me. Look at my eyes.”
She looked up, locking her tear-filled gaze with mine.
“Your fight is over,” I told her with absolute finality. “You held the line. You survived. Now, you rest, and you let me finish this.”
She nodded weakly, her eyes fluttering shut as the sedatives began to pull her back into healing sleep. “Bring them down, Alex... bring them all down...”
“I will,” I murmured.
I turned away from the bed, my face hardening into stone.
When I walked out of Room 402, Colonel Briggs was waiting. He took one look at my face and immediately snapped to attention.
“Briggs.”
“Sir!”
May you like
“Initiate Phase Two of Protocol Blackout,” I commanded, my voice echoing through the corridor like rolling thunder. “I don't just want Miller Capital dismantled. I want their very existence erased from this country. Seize the tower. Freeze every offshore asset. And bring the transport helicopters to the roof. We’re paying Catherine’s penthouse a visit.”
***
