?Chapter 1454:


    The other soldiers erupted into motion — a synchronized wave of instinct and training. Guns were drawn in unison, ck steel leveled squarely at Alex’s head.


    “Let him go!”


    “Drop the knife!”


    Theirmands cut through the corridor like gunshots — sharp, upromising, absolute.


    Cade’s jaw tightened. A thug daring to press a de against a soldier’s throat? That was madness. Pure insanity.


    The air thickened in an instant, crackling with tension, every second stretched taut as a wire about to snap. Nearby patients and their families scattered, screaming, tripping over one another in blind panic. The emergency hall, already a storm of chaos, descended into pandemonium.


    But Alex didn’t flinch. His lips curled into a feral grin, eyes glinting with reckless thrill. “Go on,” he said, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Shoot. Let’s see if your bullets are faster than my knife.”


    The confidence in his eyes wasn’t born of arrogance alone — it was born of experience. In Wront, neither police nor soldiers had ever truly challenged the Coopers. Their name alone acted as armor, an unspoken shield of power. Most men who wore badges yed the part of justice for the public eye only. Out of sight, they bowed, apologized, stepped aside — and sometimes even helped his kind. That was the world Alex had navigated for years, and thrived in.


    He shoved the knife forward. Blood bloomed across the soldier’s white cor, vivid red against the crisp fabric.


    “Tell your men to lower their guns,” Alex hissed, eyes glinting with malice, “and I might pretend this never happened.”


    But before he could finish, the soldier moved.


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    He locked eyes with Alex — steady, unhesitating, unafraid. The de pressed against his artery might as well have been a feather. In one sharp motion, he seized Alex’s wrist and twisted with controlled, devastating force. The world flipped. Alex was airborne, caught in a textbook shoulder throw.


    Bang.


    The floor mmed into him with bone-jarring impact. Pain exploded across his back. The knife flew from his grip and ttered harmlessly against the tiles.


    Before Alex could gather himself, a boot — thick and unforgiving — struck his face. He let out a strangled grunt, blood smearing across his features, and cked out mid-scream. The world copsed into darkness and agony.


    The soldier didn’t pause. Like a hurricane finally released, he surged into the remaining thugs. Fists cut through the air — precise, brutal, efficient. Each strike incapacitated. Each movement was a masterss in controlled chaos. Groans and curses filled the hallway as bodies hit the floor, one after another, until the entire groupy writhing and helpless.


    Only then did the soldier stop.


    He swayed slightly. His hand moved instinctively to his neck, where a thin, two-inch cut wept blood and stained his shirt — a vivid testament to the risk he had epted without hesitation. The artery was safe, but the spreading crimson was rming nheless.


    Fellow soldiers rushed forward, holstering their weapons and catching him before he went down entirely.


    “I’m fine,” he murmured, waving them off weakly. His gaze found Chris, sitting silently in his wheelchair nearby. Relief softened his eyes. The promise he had made — that the patient would not be harmed — had been kept.


    Then the dizziness struck, sudden and merciless. The strength drained from his limbs. Darkness crept in at the edges, and he crumpled sideways, unconscious.


    “Get a doctor — now!” Cade’s voice cut through the chaos, urgent and sharp.


    Inside the emergency room, the rhythmic beeping of monitors formed a fragile oasis of calm. Carsen stood over Dominic — still unconscious — reading the vitals with methodical focus. The shouting outside made him pause, a frown creasing his brow. He nced at Maia, then back at the monitors.


    “Heart rate is back to normal. Blood pressure stable,” he murmured, exhaling slowly. “Go check outside. He’s stable — he just needs rest.”


    The scale of the noise told him something serious had happened. Maia understood immediately. She stripped off her blood-stained gloves and pushed through the doors at a run. The smell hit her the moment she stepped into the corridor — the sharp, unmistakable tang of blood.


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