# THE REDEMPTION OF SEBASTIAN MORETTI

The descent to the underground maintenance tunnels felt like an eternity. The industrial elevator rattled and groaned, a metallic heartbeat that synced with my own terrified pulse. I was on my knees, pressing a thick bundle of gauze into Sebastian's side. The bullet had passed through, a clean through-and-through, but it had missed his vital organs by mere inches. Still, the blood loss was severe.

"Keep pressure on it," Sebastian gritted out, his teeth clenched in agony. His face was dangerously pale, the olive tone of his skin replaced by an ashen gray. "Don't... don't worry about me. Check the boy."

I glanced over my shoulder at the transport incubator. The glowing green numbers on the digital display were a beacon of hope in the gloom. "He’s stable. Heart rate is 150, oxygen is 95%. The internal heater is maintaining his core temp. He’s safe, Sebastian. But you are not."

Dante stood over us, reloading his weapons with mechanical, emotionless efficiency. "Boss, the armored transport is waiting at the loading dock. But Volkov’s men might have flanked the exterior. It could be hot."

"We punch through," Sebastian commanded, his voice weak but his authority absolute. "Get the child to Vanguard. Even if I don't make it."

"You are not dying in an elevator," I snapped, pressing harder on his wound, eliciting a sharp groan from him. "I didn't keep you alive for seventeen years just for you to bleed out on my watch. You're going to see this through."

The elevator shuddered to a halt with a heavy clunk. The doors slowly pulled apart, revealing the cavernous, dimly lit expanse of the hospital's underground maintenance level. Steam pipes hissed overhead, casting long, eerie shadows across the concrete floor. At the far end of the tunnel, about two hundred yards away, the red exit sign of the loading dock glowed.

Dante and the remaining two men stepped out first, sweeping the tunnel with their weapons raised. "Clear," Dante echoed back.

We pushed the transport incubator out of the elevator. I helped Sebastian to his feet, draping his uninjured arm over my shoulder to support his weight. He was heavy, a wall of muscle and bone, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins gave me strength I didn't know I possessed.

We moved as quickly as we could down the tunnel. The squeaking wheels of the incubator echoed loudly, masking the sound of our footsteps. We were halfway to the loading dock when the heavy steel doors at the end of the tunnel burst open.

A black SUV tore into the loading bay, its tires screeching against the concrete. Before it even stopped, the doors flew open, and six men poured out, raising automatic rifles. Volkov had anticipated the escape route.

"Ambush!" Dante yelled, shoving me and Sebastian behind a massive, concrete support pillar. He and his men ducked behind a stack of wooden pallets, returning fire instantly.

The tunnel erupted into a deafening war zone. The concrete pillar behind my back shuddered as heavy caliber bullets chipped away at it. The noise in the enclosed space was physically agonizing.

"The incubator!" I screamed, realizing we had left the baby exposed in the middle of the tunnel during the mad scramble for cover.

The transport unit was sitting halfway between our pillar and Dante's pallets, fully exposed to the crossfire.

Without thinking, driven by a primal, protective instinct I couldn't control, I broke cover.

"Clara, no!" Sebastian roared, reaching for me, but his injured side slowed him down just enough.

I sprinted into the open, diving onto the concrete floor and grabbing the heavy metal frame of the incubator. Bullets sparked off the floor inches from my face, kicking up blinding concrete dust. I pulled with all my might, dragging the heavy unit backward toward the safety of the pillar. The plexiglass lid of the incubator miraculously held strong as a stray round ricocheted off its reinforced surface.

I hauled it behind the pillar, collapsing onto my back, gasping for air. My hands were shaking so violently I couldn't feel my fingers.

Sebastian dragged himself over to me, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe. He grabbed my face with his bloody hands, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones. "You are insane," he breathed, his voice trembling. "You could have been killed."

"He's my patient," I choked out, tears finally breaking through my stoic facade. "I don't abandon my patients."

Sebastian looked at me, a profound, shifting realization settling deep in his dark eyes. The walls he had built around his heart, the armor of the ruthless crime boss, seemed to fracture in that moment. "You're extraordinary," he whispered.

The sound of screeching tires broke the moment. Another vehicle crashed through the loading dock doors, but this time, it was a massive, heavily armored black tactical truck—a BearCat.

"It's our ride!" Dante shouted over the gunfire.

The BearCat didn't stop. It accelerated down the tunnel, smashing directly into the Volkov SUV, crushing it against the concrete wall in an explosion of twisting metal and shattered glass. The mercenaries scrambled, breaking their line of fire. The side doors of the BearCat flew open, and a dozen heavily armed men belonging to Sebastian poured out, laying down overwhelming suppressive fire that decimated the remaining Volkov forces in seconds.

"Boss! We're clear!" Dante yelled, running toward us.

Sebastian nodded, his strength failing him. His head lolled back against the concrete pillar. "Get... get the boy in the truck. Get Clara in."

"We're getting you in too," Dante growled, hauling Sebastian up by his tactical vest.

We loaded the transport incubator into the spacious, armored rear of the BearCat. Dante and another man dragged Sebastian inside, laying him on the steel bench. I immediately scrambled beside him, ripping open the medical kit bolted to the wall of the truck.

"Drive!" Dante ordered the driver.

The BearCat reversed rapidly out of the loading dock, tearing out into the rainy streets of the city. The heavy armor plating of the vehicle made the chaotic, violent world outside disappear, leaving us in a tense, claustrophobic bubble.

I tore open packages of hemostatic gauze, packing Sebastian's side wound to stop the bleeding. He watched me work, his breathing shallow and rapid.