The Stolen Daughter and the Dark Truth Behind a Billionaire Wedding
Two guards in dark grey uniforms stood twenty yards away.
They both had their hands on their holsters.
“Hands where we can see them,” the guard on the left said.
I raised my hands to my shoulders.
“Tessa sent me,” I said.
“We know,” the guard said. “Walk forward. Slowly.”
I walked out of the elevator.
My shoes squeaked slightly on the polished floor.
The walls were lined with frosted glass panels.
Behind the glass, I could see the outlines of medical equipment.
Large silver tanks of oxygen stood in the corners.
“Turn right at the intersection,” the second guard said.
I turned right.
The hallway became narrower.
“Marcus,” I whispered, barely moving my lips.
“I’m here,” Marcus said in my ear. “I’ve disabled the motion sensor in the ventilation shaft above you.”
“Where is the lab?” I whispered.
“End of the hall,” Marcus said. “But the clinic is to your left behind the double doors.”
I looked to my left.
A set of double steel doors sat recessed in the wall.
A small circular window of thick wire-reinforced glass was set into each door.