Page 36 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

" H ow the fuck do people sleep in a place like this?" Noah's voice on the phone sounds like he's been up all night, which he probably has.

"You found her?" I grip my phone tighter, putting it on speaker so Alessio can hear. We're in my office at three in the morning, surrounded by maps of Sterling's estate and surveillance photos. Neither of us has slept.

"Yeah. Charlotte Sterling's being held at Oakwood Wellness Center in Connecticut. Looks fancy as fuck from the outside. The kind of place rich people send relatives they want to forget about."

Alessio leans forward, his expression dark. "Security?"

"Minimal. Two guards at the entrance, key card access, but it's a medical facility, not a prison. Most patients are too drugged to try escaping." Noah's disgust carries through the line.

There's no way Henry hasn't put guards in her room too.

"The clinic staff?" I ask.

"Bought and paid for. Sterling's got the director in his pocket—guy named Matthews. Sterling visits once a month, makes sure she stays sedated. Last visit was two weeks ago."

Alessio meets my gaze, both of us thinking the same thing. We don't have time to waste.

"We move at first light. Send me the building layout. And make sure the doctor knows what we're dealing with. We don't know what kind of shape she's in after years of forced medication." I tell Noah.

Alessio stands, checking his weapon. "I'll assemble a team. Small, efficient. We go in quiet, come out the same way."

I end up the call.

"We can't fuck this up," I tell Alessio. "Charlotte Sterling is our leverage, but she's also Sienna's mother. We treat her with care."

Alessio nods, understanding the weight of what we're about to do.

T he Connecticut air hits with an early morning chill as we sit in position outside Oakwood Wellness Center. Our tactical van is parked down the street, disguised as a medical supply delivery vehicle.

"Team Two in position at the service entrance," Noah's voice comes through my earpiece .

"Any movement inside?" I ask.

"Nurse change just happened. Next rotation in four hours," Alessio reports from beside me, scrolling through the building's staff schedule that Matteo's friend hacked from their system. "We have a ninety-minute window before the doctor does morning rounds."

I check my watch. 6:40 a.m. Perfect.

"Remember, we don't know what condition she's in," I tell the team. "Years of forced sedation could mean anything from physically weakened to completely non-responsive."

Alessio nods, checking his weapon before concealing it beneath his white lab coat. "Daniel's waiting with the secondary vehicle at the extraction point. Doctor Romano is prepped for whatever condition we find her in."

I slip the stolen ID badge around my neck. Dr. James Sullivan, psychiatric consultant. Alessio becomes Dr. Peterson, while Noah and Matteo take the roles of orderlies. The rest of our team waits as backup, ready to create a distraction if needed.

"Sterling's private security?" I ask.

"Two men. Room 318. They rotate every twelve hours," Noah confirms. "Current guards came on at midnight, so they'll be getting bored and tired."

The building's layout appears on my tablet. Three floors, central staircase, emergency exits at both ends. Charlotte's room is on the third floor, north wing.

The clock hits 5:45. Time to move.

"Let's go," I say, opening the van door.

We file out, medical bags containing tactical gear in hand. Walking with purpose across the parking lot, we look like nothing more than early morning medical consultants arriving for a case review .

At the entrance, the sleepy security guard barely glances at our badges before buzzing us through. The reception area sits empty except for a night nurse who's too busy with paperwork to pay attention.

We reach the third floor. Matteo stays at the stairwell to intercept any staff, while Noah, Alessio and I continue down the sterile hallway toward Room 318.

Around the corner, I spot the two guards - one seated outside the door reading something on his phone, the other pacing nearby. Neither looks particularly alert.

I nod to Noah and Alessio. We've done this countless times.

"Excuse me," I call out, striding forward with clipboard in hand. "I need to verify something about the patient in 318."

The seated guard looks up with mild annoyance. "There's no scheduled visit."

"Director Matthews ordered a reassessment of all long-term patients," Alessio says smoothly, stepping closer while I draw the guard's attention with paperwork.

The movement happens in seconds. Noah takes the standing guard with a precise choke hold, while Alessio subdues the seated one before he can reach for his weapon. Quick, efficient, silent.

"Zip ties," I murmur.

We secure them efficiently, checking their pockets for keys and phones. The whole takedown takes less than thirty seconds.

"Get them inside that supply closet," I direct Noah, pointing to a door across the hall. "Then you and Matteo take their positions. Anyone approaches, you're regular security doing your job."

Once the guards are secured, I retrieve the key card from the pocket of one of the unconscious men. My pulse quickens as I slide it through the reader. The light turns green.

I push the door open slowly, entering a room that's more luxurious than the standard medical accommodations but still unmistakably institutional. Pale blue walls, a hospital bed with upgraded linens, a small sitting area by a window with bars disguised as decorative grillwork.

In the corner sits a woman, thin and fragile-looking, staring out the window. When she turns toward us, I see the same crystal blue eyes Sienna has too, though dulled by whatever medication they've been keeping her on.

"Charlotte Sterling?" I ask quietly.

She flinches at the sound of my voice, pressing herself against the chair. Fear flashes across her face as her eyes dart between Alessio and me.

"Mrs. Sterling, we're not here to hurt you," I say, keeping my distance. "We're here on behalf of Sienna."

Her eyes widen at her daughter's name, but suspicion hardens her features. "My husband sent you. Another test." Her voice is hoarse from disuse.

"No. Your husband doesn't know we're here." I take a slow step forward.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Charlotte whispers, her hands trembling. "Everyone lies here."

I consider my words carefully. "Sienna told me about the late nights you would spend together in the kitchen. Cooking when Henry was away on business."

Charlotte's breath catches. Something shifts in her expression.

"She said you taught her how to make chocolate chip cookies from scratch. That you would wait until after midnight, when the house was quiet and the staff had gone to bed." I recall Sienna's exact words. "You'd turn on the small radio and dance while the cookies baked."

Tears fill Charlotte's eyes. "No one knows about that. Not even Henry."

"Sienna remembers everything about you, Mrs. Sterling. She never stopped looking for you." I extend my hand. "I'm going to take you somewhere safe."

My chest tightens as Charlotte reaches for my hand with trembling fingers. There's so much of Sienna in her face.

"We need to move quickly," Alessio murmurs, checking his watch.

I nod, turning back to Charlotte. "Can you walk?"

She stands shakily, her hospital gown hanging loose on her frail frame. "They... they give me something every night. Makes everything foggy."

"Here." Alessio pulls a blanket from the bed and wraps it around her shoulders. "For warmth and dignity."

Charlotte clutches the edges of the blanket, her knuckles white. "Sienna? Is she truly safe?"

A knife twists in my gut. "She's with her father right now. But we're going to change that very soon."

Fear flashes across her face. We don't have time to sit and explain things now.

Alessio opens the door a crack, checking the hallway. "Clear. Noah has the elevator waiting."

I guide Charlotte with a gentle hand at her elbow. She's unsteady but determined, each step growing more confident than the last.

We move down the corridor where Noah holds the elevator with our fake orderly. Matteo stands guard by the stairwell, giving us a short nod.

"No alarms triggered," Noah confirms as we enter the elevator. "Security system thinks we're authorized medical staff doing a standard transfer."

Charlotte presses herself into the corner of the elevator, eyeing us warily. I can't blame her—she's been betrayed by everyone meant to protect her.

"You're doing great, Mrs. Sterling," I tell her as the elevator descends. "Just a little further."

The doors open to the ground floor. I tense, scanning for threats, but the lobby remains quiet. The night shift receptionist is focused on her computer, barely glancing our way as we pass.

"Medical transfer," Alessio says casually to the security guard, flashing paperwork. "Patient heading to specialized treatment."

The guard nods, already turning back to his newspaper. People see what they expect to see.

Outside, the morning air is cold and sharp. Charlotte inhales deeply, as if she hasn't tasted fresh air in years. Maybe she hasn't.

"This way," I murmur, guiding her toward our waiting van where Daniel sits behind the wheel, engine running.

Charlotte hesitates at the sight of the vehicle, her body going rigid. "I remember the last time I was put in a car. He said it was for treatment too."

"Mrs. Sterling," I say quietly, meeting her gaze directly. "I give you my word. We're taking you somewhere safe. You can trust me."

Something in my voice must convince her because she nods once and allows me to help her into the backseat. I slide in beside her while Alessio takes the front passenger seat.

"Go," I tell Daniel as Noah and Matteo peel off toward the second vehicle .

Daniel pulls smoothly away from the curb, driving exactly at the speed limit. Nothing draws attention like speeding away from a scene.