Devon Aldridge stepped out of the FHCN's holding room, the heavy door slamming shut behind him with a loud clang that echoed like a final nail in someone else's coffin. The hallway stretched out in front of him, buzzing fluorescent lights that flickered like they were whispering secrets he wasn't meant to hear.
He paused, rolling his shoulders to shake off the interrogation's tension, breathing in the chilly, recycled air. His eyes scanned the empty corridor, calm as ever, his mind already spinning ahead, plotting his next move. His steps were slow, deliberate, like a man who'd just flipped the script on his accusers and walked away without a scratch.
But he didn't get far barely ten feet before two men appeared at the end of the hall, moving toward him with purpose, like wolves catching the scent of prey.
They were both young, late twenties, dressed in sharp suits, but it was clear they didn't know each other. They'd shown up one after the other, pulled here by the news of his arrest, their paths crossing like two storms about to collide.
The taller one got to him first, a lanky guy with neatly combed brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a briefcase gripped tight like it was his lifeline. He stuck out a hand, his voice quick and professional, but with a nervous edge, like he'd raced across town to beat a deadline. "Dr Devon, I'm Nathan Hale, Blissville Hospital's legal team. The board sent me the second they heard embezzlement? Fraud? It's crazy. I'm here to get you out of this mess. We've got a strong plan, procedural errors, the whole deal. Let's find a room and start—" His words tumbled out, his free hand adjusting his glasses, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air.
Devon waved him off, his voice smooth and easy, like he was turning down a drink at a bar. "No need, Nathan. Thanks for the effort, but it's all taken care of." He flashed a small smile, the kind that didn't reach his eyes, but carried enough weight to shut down any argument.
Inside, Devon felt a quiet laugh bubble up, Nathan looked like a kid who'd shown up to a party that ended hours ago.
Nathan's hand dropped, his face twisting in confusion, his eyebrows scrunching up like he was trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. "Taken care of? Dr Devon, the board's freaking out. They told me this is big federal-level big. The FHCN doesn't just let go. How could—" He leaned in closer, his briefcase shifting in his grip, his eyes searching Devon's face for some clue, some sign that this was a joke.
Devon raised a hand, calm but firm, like he was settling a jumpy intern in the operating room. "Case is dropped. Just a misunderstanding. All cleared up, no charges, no fuss." His smile stayed in place, cool and confident.
He patted Nathan's shoulder lightly, a move that said move along without words.
Nathan's jaw dropped, his mouth opening and closing like he was a fish flopping on the dock. Embezzlement and fraud, just dropped? He'd sped through red lights, heart racing, picturing epic courtroom fights and headlines.
How could something that huge just vanish? He stared at Devon, hunting for a hint, a crack in that cool exterior, but all he got was a wall of calm. "But… how? They had proof." His voice trailed off, his hands gesturing wildly, the briefcase nearly slipping from his fingers.
Before Nathan could dig deeper, the second man stepped forward, cutting through the moment like a knife through butter. He was shorter than Nathan, compact, with sharp features and dark hair slicked back so tight it looked painted on. His eyes gleamed with a cold, hard edge, like he saw things nobody else did.
Devon felt a shift inside him, his attitude tightening, his brows knitting together as a warning bell went off in his head. This guy wasn't like Nathan. There was something dark about him, like a shadow that didn't match the light around it.
He nodded at Devon, ignoring the lawyer completely, his voice low and steady, heavy with meaning. "Dr Devon," he said, each word sharp and deliberate, "I'm from the Velvet Circle. We need to talk. Alone."
He shot a look at Nathan, his eyes narrowing just enough to say, Get lost. Nathan froze, caught the message, and hesitated for a second, his lawyer instincts screaming to stay and figure this out then nodded awkwardly.
"Uh, right… if you need me, Doctor, just call. I'll be… nearby." He backed off, his briefcase swinging like a sad pendulum, glancing back as he shuffled down the hall, his brain spinning with questions. Who was this guy? And why did he look like he'd walked out of a mob movie? Nathan rounded the corner, his footsteps fading, leaving Devon and the stranger in a bubble of tense silence.
Devon turned to the man, crossing his arms, his face shifting from casual to guarded, though still tinged with a hint of doubt. "Velvet Circle?" he said, his voice steady but sharp.
The man didn't blink, his face like stone, cold and unmoving. "The group you used when you took down Elias Thorne," he said, his words careful, like he was laying out cards in a high-stakes game. "Thorne was one of us. A lowlife, barely worth our name, but still a member. And that tape you leaked to ruin him? That was his initiation into the Circle. A test to prove he could handle our secrets." He stood still, his suit crisp, his stare unyielding, like he had all day to wait for Devon to catch up.
Devon's brows furrowed, a spark of curiosity cutting through his annoyance. Initiation? His mind flashed to the tape. Thorne on his knees, groveling in a dingy room, a woman towering over him, spitting in his face, worse. It had been the perfect weapon to destroy Thorne's empire, but a test? What kind of sick group thought that was an entry fee?
The man's face stayed blank, but his voice dropped, carrying a sting of blame that prickled Devon's skin. "You had plenty of ways to take Thorne down, his shady deals, his scams, his double-crosses. Clean moves. But you chose to drag us into it. You leaked that tape, his initiation. Thorne on his knees, begging, humiliated while that woman… you know what she did. The spitting, the peeing, the total surrender. It wasn't just about him. You exposed our ways, our secrecy. You stained the Velvet Circle's name, broke our trust. That's on you."
He stepped in front of Devon, blocking his path just enough to force a stop, his eyes locked on Devon's, unblinking.
Devon leaned against the wall, arms crossed tighter, his face showing boredom but his mind racing. "Your ways? Sounds like a cheap cult with bad taste." He waved a hand, ready to walk away, already done with this shadowy nonsense. His patience was thin, and this guy's serious act was starting to feel like a bad play.
The man's eyes didn't waver, his voice hard as steel. "You owe a debt, Dr Devon. And it will be paid." He stood taller, his words hanging heavy, like a judge handing down a sentence.
Devon laughed, a sharp, real laugh that bounced off the walls, cutting through the heavy air. He straightened up, grinning like he'd heard a good joke, his tone dripping with mockery. "A debt?" He uncrossed his arms, ready to push past, his amusement fading into irritation.
The man didn't smile, his face a blank mask, his calm like a wall that didn't budge. He gripped his briefcase tighter, then flipped it open with a soft click that sounded louder than it should, like a gun cocking in the quiet hall.
From inside, he pulled out a small, sleek capsule case, matte black and shiny under the lights, like something stolen from a sci-fi lab. He held it up, the tiny case no bigger than a pack of gum but heavy with menace. "This," he said, his voice low and deadly, "is Aerothrax. An airborne poison. No smell, no taste, spreads like fog, through vents, air ducts, even an open window. One breath, and it latches onto your lungs, eats them away cell by cell. Then your heart stops, your organs fail. Hours if you're lucky, days if you're not. You drown in your own body. No trace, no cure. We've spent years perfecting it, but perfection has a price." He turned the case slowly, letting the light catch its edges, his grip steady as if holding a live grenade.
Devon's grin faded, his eyes locking on the capsule, his mind shifting from mockery to focus. A poison? This wasn't just a game anymore. His brain kicked into overdrive chemical formulas, dispersal methods, antidotes but he kept his face cool, though a flicker of unease crept in. "Nice gadget. You selling it or just showing off? What's the point scaring me with your toy?" He leaned in closer, his voice steady.
The man's voice cut through, sharp and final. "Before you shrug this off, know this,everyone in Blissville Hospital is breathing Aerothrax right now." He paused, letting the words sink in, his eyes never leaving Devon's, the air between them thick with threat.
Devon's calm cracked, his body going rigid, his eyes narrowing to slits. "You're bluffing," he said, but his voice wavered, a sliver of doubt breaking through. His mind flashed to the hospital colleagues, patients, everyone he knew there.
The man didn't answer with words. He reached into the briefcase again, pulling out a slim laptop and flipping it open with a smooth, practiced move. The screen glowed to life, showing a live feed hacked from Blissville Hospital's security cameras sharp, real, and terrifying. Devon leaned in, his breath catching, his heart thudding as the scene hit him like a punch.
The hospital was a war zone, locked down tight like a fortress under attack by something invisible. Outside, steel barriers blocked the entrances, red emergency lights flashing like warning beacons, painting the parking lot in bloody pulses.
Ambulances sat useless, their lights spinning in silence, while cops in suits stood guard, rifles ready, shouting into radios to keep desperate families back behind yellow tape that snapped in the wind. Inside, it was worse, a nightmare unfolding in real time. Nurses slumped over desks in the ER, gasping through paper masks, their faces pale, sweat dripping, eyes wide with panic as they clawed at their throats.
Doctors stumbled through halls, coughing hard, blood speckling their lips, hands pressed to their chests like they could hold their lungs together. Patients in beds thrashed, IV lines tangling, monitors screaming with alarms as oxygen masks failed them, their faces twisted in fear.
The feed zoomed in on faces Devon knew colleagues he'd laughed with, patients he'd saved—now fighting for air, collapsing against walls, their bodies betraying them. A young nurse he'd mentored retched blood in a corner, her hands shaking. An old man in ICU gasped weakly, his family pounding on sealed windows outside, their screams silent but desperate. IV stands crashed to the floor, fluids pooling like spilled hope. The hospital which was a place of healing, was now a tomb, the air itself a killer, choking everyone inside. The chaos played out in slow, agonizing detail people sliding down walls, eyes rolling back, the soundless horror pulling Devon in deeper.