Chapter 84 *
Scarlett's POV
I leaned forward slightly. Tried to get a better angle on Ronin's phone screen.
Just a quick peek. That's all I needed.
What kind of woman could make a man like this risk everything?
I shifted my weight. Moved closer.
His head turned. Those dead eyes locked onto mine.
"Curious?"
His voice was low. Dangerous.
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
Oh shit.
I shook my head. Fast. Way too fast.
"No. Not at all. Zero curiosity. I was just... looking at the wall behind you. Nice wall. Very... wall-like."
His eyes didn't move. Just kept staring.
My brain was screaming at me.
Ronin definitely keeps his wife's identity locked down tight. If I've seen her face, he might kill me right here to keep it secret.
I took a step back. Then another.
"Actually, I just remembered. I left something upstairs. Very important. Life or death. Gotta go."
I turned around. Walked away.
Tried not to run.
I reached the stairwell. Pushed through the door.
Started climbing. Two steps at a time.
My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it.
Note to self: Never try to spy on a professional killer's personal life. Bad for your health.
I made it to the second floor. Found a window that wasn't shattered.
Pulled the curtain back slightly. Just a crack.
My jaw dropped.
"Holy shit."
The entire street was packed. FBI tactical units. NYPD SWAT. Armored vehicles everywhere.
And behind them? Men in expensive suits. Standing next to black SUVs.
The Five Families.
They'd mobilized everyone.
I counted at least eight tactical teams. Full gear. Assault rifles. The works.
Snipers on the rooftops across the street. I could see the glint of their scopes.
A hazmat unit was standing by. Bright yellow suits. Chemical detection equipment.
Two helicopters circled overhead. Searchlights cutting through the darkness.
The entire hospital was locked down. Completely surrounded.
This is insane.
I let the curtain fall back into place.
Okay. Rational analysis time.
With this much firepower outside, there was no simple way out.
Trying to slip through the perimeter would be suicide.
Better plan: Go back to Patterson's office. Wait for rescue.
The terrorists were all dead. The bombs were disarmed.
I just needed to maintain my cover. Play the helpless pregnant civilian.
I started stripping off the tactical gear. The vest came off first. Then the cargo pants.
Found my original clothes in a supply closet. The ones I'd worn before everything went to hell.
Changed quickly. Checked my reflection in a broken mirror.
There. Back to looking like a scared college student.
I headed toward Patterson's office. Took the stairs carefully.
My shoulder still hurt. And I was pretty sure I'd pulled something in my abdomen.
But I could worry about that later.
Right now, I needed to get back before anyone noticed I'd been gone.
I pushed open the door to Patterson's office.
He jumped. Actually jumped.
Nearly fell out of his chair.
His hands clutched the metal case like it was a lifeline.
"Jesus Christ!" His voice cracked. "You scared the hell out of me!"
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."
He was staring at me. Wide-eyed. Breathing hard.
"Why did you come back?" His voice shook. "I thought you were leaving. I thought you were getting out."
"Change of plans."
I walked over. Sat down on the edge of his desk.
Patterson watched me nervously. His knuckles were white from gripping the case.
I let the silence stretch out. Made him sweat a little.
Then I spoke. My voice was calm. Almost pleasant.
"Who am I?"
He blinked. "What?"
"Simple question. Who am I?"
"You're... you're Marina Quinn. Dr. Simon Quinn's daughter."
I shook my head slowly.
Picked up the bloody knife from earlier. Started twirling it between my fingers.
Casual. Like I was playing with a pen.
"Try again."
Patterson's face went white. He backed up. Hit the wall.
"I don't understand. What do you want me to say?"
I stopped twirling the knife. Looked at him directly.
"Here's what happened tonight. I came here for a prenatal checkup. Got taken hostage by terrorists. They used me to threaten you. Made you give up the research. Then they decided to kill everyone."
I paused. Let him process that.
"And then this middle-aged woman appeared out of nowhere. Some kind of professional killer. She took out all the terrorists. Before she left, I heard them mention her codename. Sable."
I stood up. Walked closer to him.
"That's the story. Got it?"
Patterson just stood there. Frozen.
His brain was working. I could see it in his eyes.
Connecting the dots. Realizing what I was really saying.
Several seconds passed.
Then understanding flooded his face.
He nodded. Slowly. "I understand."
"Good."
I let my expression shift. Just for a second.
Cold. Dead. The look I used on targets before pulling the trigger.
Patterson flinched.
"If you tell anyone the truth..." I didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to.
"I won't." His voice came out strangled. "I swear. I won't say a word."
"Not to the police. Not to the FBI. Not to anyone."
"No one. I promise."
I held his gaze for another moment. Made sure he understood.
Then I smiled. Warm and friendly.
"Good. Because you're Leonard Sawyer's student. That makes you almost family."
I walked back toward the door. Paused with my hand on the handle.
"And I don't hurt family. Unless they give me a reason to."
I leaned against the doorframe. "So. This research of yours. What exactly does it do?"
Patterson relaxed slightly. This was safer territory.
"It's focused on cellular regeneration. Specifically bone tissue."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I can potentially revive dead bone tissue. Make it functional again."
I tilted my head. "That's impressive."
"It's inspired by Cosmos-1. But it's not actually Cosmos-1. Just standard medical experimentation."
"Then why did they come after you?"
He laughed. Bitter and tired.
"Because they thought I had the real thing. They were wrong."
I pushed off the doorframe. Walked closer.
"What makes the real thing so special?"
Patterson looked at me for a long moment. Like he was deciding how much to say.
"Modern medicine has limits. There are diseases we still can't cure. Conditions we can't reverse."
He paused.
"But something like Cosmos-1? That could truly reverse death itself. That's not something we can make on Earth."
"Reverse death?" My voice came out sharper than I intended.
"Your father never told you?" Patterson's expression was complicated. "There were stage four cancer patients. Terminal. Weeks to live. They were given Cosmos-1 as a last resort."
"And?"
"They walked out completely healthy. Cancer gone. Like it never existed."
I stared at him.
My father had never mentioned that part.
He'd told me Cosmos-1 was dangerous. That it could enhance people beyond human limits.
But he'd never said it could cure terminal cancer.
Patterson shook his head. "I'm not surprised people are still looking for it. I just don't understand how they connected me to it. I was only a student. I never even saw the real serum."
My mind was racing.
If Cosmos-1 could actually bring people back from death...
No wonder someone was willing to siege a hospital for it.
Then another thought hit me.
Like lightning striking.
My parents.
Seven months ago. While I was overseas on a contract.
The phone call from Leonard Sawyer.
"I'm so sorry, Marina. There's been an accident."
Car crash. Mountain road. Truck with failed brakes.
The FBI had investigated. Found nothing suspicious.
Leonard had performed the autopsy himself. Confirmed it was accidental.
I'd accepted it. Buried myself in grief.
But now?
After tonight?
I wasn't so sure anymore.
What if it wasn't an accident?
What if someone killed them for the Cosmos-1 research?
What if my parents knew something? Had something?
The questions started multiplying in my head.
Who would benefit from their deaths?
Who else knew about Cosmos-1?
Was there a conspiracy?
Stop. Stop it right now.
I forced myself to breathe. To think rationally.
This could just be paranoia. Trauma from tonight making me see patterns that weren't there.
But still.
The timing was suspicious. The circumstances were suspicious.
Everything was suspicious.
I needed to investigate quietly.
I heard footsteps in the hallway.
Heavy boots. My whole body went on alert.
But I forced myself to relax. To look scared instead of ready to fight.
The terrorists were all dead. These had to be rescue teams.
I turned to Patterson. Put my finger to my lips.
He nodded. Understood.
I wiped my eyes. Made them water.
Took a shaky breath. Let my shoulders tremble.
Time to sell the act.
The door exploded inward.
Wood splintered. The lock shattered.
A massive figure stormed through. All muscle and controlled violence.
I looked up through my fake tears.
My brain registered the face.
Oh no.
Just my fucking luck.