Chapter 170

Chapter 170
Jack's POV

The winter night bit through the walls as I maintained my position opposite the birthing suite doors.

My back straight against the wall, I scanned every person who passed—nurse, doctor, orderly—giving each the same penetrating assessment. In this line of work, everyone is a potential threat until proven otherwise.

Ms. Lancaster had reached seven centimeters dilation according to Dr. Brown's last update. Through my earpiece, I could hear the medical team's hushed, urgent voices preparing for the final stage of delivery.

Mr. Sterling stood like a sentinel outside the room, refusing to move despite the nurses' gentle suggestions that he wait in the designated area. His jaw was set in a hard line, fingers occasionally twitching at his sides. After years of protecting him, I recognized the subtle signs of his escalating anxiety.

"Sir," I reported, keeping my voice professional as I approached him. "All entry points are secured. Team Alpha is monitoring the parking garage, Team Bravo has the lobby, and Team Charlie is patrolling the perimeter. No one gets in without clearance."

He nodded once, a sharp movement that conveyed both acknowledgment and dismissal.

The next hour passed with clockwork precision as my teams reported in at regular intervals. Nothing unusual. Security holding. All accesses monitored. Yet something didn't feel right. Years in special forces had given me an instinct for approaching danger, like the pressure drop before a storm.

Then my earpiece crackled with the words I'd been dreading.

"Jack! Shots fired at the south entrance! Multiple hostiles breaching the perimeter!"

My body tensed as adrenaline flooded my system, my mind instantly shifting to combat mode. "Report details," I demanded, watching Mr. Sterling's face transform as he registered my change in posture.

"How many?" he asked, his voice like ice.

"At least twenty armed men. They've disabled Team Bravo and are heading toward the elevators. Black SUVs, professional gear, tactical formation."

My blood ran cold as I processed this information. In my years working security for the Sterling family, I'd seen plenty of corporate espionage, blackmail attempts, and behind-the-scenes maneuvering.

The Sterlings operated in a world where enemies typically fought with lawyers, accountants, and the occasional leaked scandal. Their battles were waged in boardrooms and through proxy votes, not with bullets and tactical teams.

This was something entirely different—a military-style assault. Whoever was behind this had crossed an unspoken line. They weren't just trying to damage the Sterling business interests or reputation; they wanted blood. They wanted to prevent the birth of the Sterling heir at any cost.

As I pulled up the security feed on my tablet, watching the coordinated movement of the attackers, I realized we were entering uncharted territory. The usual Sterling family power struggles were ruthless but civilized on the surface.

This was raw, unmasked violence. And if they were willing to go this far, to risk everything on such a brazen attack, the coming war would be more savage than anything the family had experienced before.

I tightened my grip on my weapon, a cold certainty settling in my gut. Many of us wouldn't survive the night.

I hit the alarm on my wrist device, and instantly, the high-pitched security alert began blaring throughout the hospital wing. Mr. Sterling's hand went to his waistband, pulling out the sleek black Glock.

I relayed the information as I pulled up the security camera feed on my tablet. The attackers moved with military precision—these weren't amateurs. I immediately started barking orders to my remaining teams, positioning them to create a defensive perimeter around the delivery room.

"Sir, Victoria's car was intercepted three blocks away," I reported after receiving the update through my earpiece. "She won't make it here in time. We need to move you to a secure location."

"No." His voice was steel. "Secure this floor. No one gets through."

I nodded and moved away, despite disagreeing with his decision. My job wasn't to question but to execute. I quickly gathered the remaining security team, positioning them at strategic points along the corridor. The gunfire was getting closer—sharp pops followed by the duller response of my men returning fire.

"We've set up barriers at the stairwell and disabled the elevator," I reported, returning to Mr. Sterling's side. "But they're well-equipped, sir. They know what they're doing."

I watched his knuckles whiten around his gun. "Who sent them?"

"Unknown, but they're professionals. Military training. They came prepared for resistance."

Another cry from Ms. Lancaster pierced the air. Through the door, I heard Dr. Brown's voice: "The baby is crowning, Hannah. We need to focus now."

My attention split between the approaching threat and the civilian lives I was tasked with protecting. I spoke clearly into my comm device: "All units, Operation Cradle is now active. I repeat, Operation Cradle is active."

"Three men down!" reported one of my team members through the earpiece. "They've breached the third floor!"

More gunshots, closer now. Mr. Sterling's voice cut through the chaos: "Protect Hannah and the baby. Whatever happens to me doesn't matter."

I positioned my men at each end of the corridor, helping them drag furniture across the hallway to create makeshift barricades. Mr. Sterling stood just outside the delivery room, his tall frame silhouetted against the emergency lights, gun at the ready.

The elevator dinged at the end of the hallway—a sound that sent ice through my veins. For a split second, everything seemed frozen in time. Then the air exploded with gunfire, muzzle flashes lighting up the corridor like a macabre strobe light.

"Contact front!" I shouted, dropping to one knee behind our barricade.