CHAPTER 23 THE LAST CLINIC STANDING #2
And there it was—a man in a dark jacket, moving through the clinic with practiced ease.
He didn’t touch anything, didn’t take anything. He just looked. And then he was gone.
Evelyn’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t a random check. Someone was sending her a message. Someone who knew where she worked, where she lived, where she ran. And they were letting her know she wasn’t as untouchable as she thought.
She closed the feed and slipped her phone back into her pocket. Her clinic was compromised. Her rules were breaking. And whoever was behind this wasn’t going to stop until they got what they wanted.
Evelyn turned off the lights and locked the door behind her, her movements deliberate. She couldn’t stay here. Not tonight. Not ever again. But as she walked back to her car, she knew one thing for certain—this wasn’t over. Whoever was watching her had made a mistake.
They’d underestimated her. And that was a mistake they wouldn’t live to regret.
The safe house smelled of mildew and old wood, the kind of scent that clung to abandoned places.
Evelyn stood in the dim light filtering through cracked blinds, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
Dario Vitale leaned against the wall, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the room like he expected it to bite back.
Daniel Marsh hovered near the door, his hand resting on the knob, ready to bolt if needed.
"This isn't sustainable," Dario said, his voice low but carrying the weight of authority. "We need to abandon this location. Immediate abandonment."
Evelyn turned to him, her jaw tight. "Abandon it? And go where? Every safe house we've used has been compromised. You think running again is the answer?"
"It's not running," Dario corrected, his tone clipped. "It's regrouping. Staying here is suicide. They’ve tracked us this far. They’ll find us here, too."
Daniel shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting between them. "He’s right. Whoever’s after us isn’t just guessing. They’ve got a system. We stay, we’re sitting ducks."
Evelyn shook her head, frustration etched into every line of her face. "And what happens when the next place is compromised? We keep running? That’s not a plan, Dario. That’s desperation."
Dario pushed off the wall, stepping closer to her. His presence was deliberate, calculated to remind her who he was—what he could do. "Desperation is staying here and waiting for them to pick us off. Immediate abandonment isn’t optional. It’s necessary."
"Necessary for who?" Evelyn shot back, her voice rising. "For you? For the family? Or for us?"
"For all of us," Dario said, his voice steady but edged with a warning. "You think this is about me? Fine. Then let’s make it about you. You’re the one they want, Evelyn. Not me. Not Daniel. You. And if they get you, it’s over. For everyone."
The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. Evelyn’s breath hitched, but she didn’t look away. "So what? You’re saying I’m the liability now?"
"I’m saying you’re the target," Dario corrected, his tone softening just enough to take the sting out of the truth. "And targets don’t survive by standing still."
Daniel cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "Look, we can argue about this all night, but Dario’s not wrong. We need to move. Now. Before they close in."
Evelyn glanced at him, then back at Dario. She hated the logic of it, hated the way he could strip everything down to cold, hard facts. But she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Staying here was a death sentence, and she wasn’t ready to die.
"Fine," she said finally, her voice tight. "We leave. But this isn’t over."
"Good," Dario said, turning toward the door. "Because it’s never over. Not until we figure out who’s behind this."
Daniel opened the door, letting in a draft of cold night air. Evelyn hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on the room—on the worn couch, the peeling wallpaper, the faint outline of a stain on the floor. It wasn’t much, but it had been shelter. Now it was a trap.
Dario paused in the doorway, glancing back at her. "Move," he urged, his voice low but urgent. "Now."
Evelyn followed, her steps quick but deliberate. As they stepped into the darkness, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking into something worse. But Dario was right. Staying wasn’t an option. Not anymore.
Evelyn stood in the center of the room, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made it hard to breathe. She glanced at the clock on the wall—11:47 PM. Time was slipping away, and every second felt like a grain of sand falling through an hourglass.
"We can't stay here," she said, her voice firm but edged with urgency. "It's not safe. Not for any of us."
Dario leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He didn’t argue, but he didn’t move either. Evelyn knew that look. It was the one he wore when he was calculating, weighing risks against outcomes. She didn’t have the luxury of deliberation.
"Evelyn," Daniel started, stepping forward, his hands raised as if to placate her. "We’ve got protocols. We can’t just—"
"No," she cut him off, her tone sharp enough to make him pause. "Protocols won’t save us if they’re already inside. We’re evacuating. Now."
Dario’s gaze flicked to her, and for a moment, she thought he might challenge her. But then he nodded, a single, decisive motion. "Do it."
Evelyn turned to Daniel, her chest tightening. "Get the remaining staff out. Use the south exit—it’s less likely to be watched. Take them to the safe house on 12th. No arguments, no delays."
Daniel hesitated, his jaw working as if he wanted to protest. But he didn’t. Instead, he gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, barking orders to the handful of employees still lingering in the room. They moved quickly, their faces pale but determined, grabbing coats and bags as they filed out.
Evelyn watched them go, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t afford to second-guess herself now. Not when the stakes were this high.
"You’re sure about this?" Dario asked, his voice low.
She met his eyes, her resolve hardening. "I’m not losing anyone else. Not tonight."
He studied her for a moment, then nodded again. "Then let’s make sure they get out clean."
They moved together, Evelyn leading the way as they followed the staff toward the south exit. The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering fluorescent bulbs casting long shadows on the walls. Evelyn’s boots echoed against the tile floor, each step a reminder of the urgency pressing down on her.
As they reached the exit, Daniel was already holding the door open, ushering the last of the staff through. He glanced back at Evelyn, his expression grim. "We’re clear for now. But they’ll figure out where we went."
"Let them," Evelyn said, her voice steady. "By then, we’ll be ready."
Dario stepped past her, his hand brushing against hers as he moved to secure the door. The brief contact sent a jolt through her, a reminder of the unspoken tension between them. She pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.
"Evelyn," Dario said, his voice in a low voice. "You know this isn’t over."
She nodded, her jaw tightening. "I know. But for now, we’ve bought ourselves some time."
He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for something she couldn’t name. Then he turned away, his attention shifting to the street outside. "Let’s move."
Evelyn took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. The staff was safe—for now. But the real fight was just beginning. And she knew, deep down, that the cost of tonight’s decisions would come due sooner than any of them were ready for.
The alley was narrow, the air smelling of damp brick and rusted metal.
Dario’s hand closed around Evelyn’s wrist, pulling her forward with a grip that brooked no argument.
She stumbled slightly, her boots scraping against the cracked pavement, but she didn’t protest.
Behind them, the faint sound of engines roared in the distance, growing louder with every passing second.
“Daniel’s coming,” Dario said, his voice low and clipped.
He didn’t need to say more. Evelyn could feel the tension coiled in his body, the way his eyes darted toward the mouth of the alley.
She didn’t ask how he knew; she didn’t need to.
Marsh had a reputation for being thorough, and if he was moving in, it wouldn’t be with subtlety.
Evelyn glanced over her shoulder, her heart pounding in her chest. The streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, and for a moment, she thought she saw movement—figures emerging from the gloom. “We’re not going to make it,” she said, her voice tight.
“We will,” Dario replied, his tone unwavering. He tugged her forward again, his steps quickening. “But only if you keep moving.”
They reached the end of the alley, where a rusted gate stood half-open.
Beyond it, the city hummed with late-night traffic, the faint glow of neon signs reflecting off wet asphalt.
Dario shoved the gate open wider, the metal screeching in protest, and pulled Evelyn through.
She stumbled again, her shoulder brushing against the cold iron, but she caught herself before she fell.
The sound of engines was closer now, unmistakable. Evelyn risked another glance back and saw the first flash of headlights cutting through the darkness. Marsh’s team was here, and they were moving fast.
Dario’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into her wrist. “Don’t look,” he said, his voice sharp. “Keep your eyes forward.”
Evelyn obeyed, focusing on the uneven ground beneath her feet.
They crossed the street, weaving between parked cars and scattered trash bins.
Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, her lungs burning with the effort to keep up with Dario’s pace.
He moved with purpose, his every step deliberate, as if he’d mapped this route a thousand times in his head.