"Are you out of your mind?!" Eleanor shrieked, jumping up from her leather seat. She pointed a trembling finger at Camden. "You want to kill him faster? That is an FDA-approved Level-4 sterile pod! If you break the seal, the infection risk is one hundred percent! I will hold you legally responsible!"

Tess nodded frantically, her Chanel shawl slipping off her shoulders. "Camden, please! You're grieving! You can't let some voodoo street rat experiment on your grandfather!"

Cole, Camden's personal assistant, stood by the pod. His hand rested casually on the grip of his holstered pistol. He didn't look at the women; he only watched Camden, waiting for the final nod.

Camden ignored the screaming women. He kept his gray-blue eyes locked on Eloise.

Eloise sighed. The rain dripped from her eyelashes. She looked directly at Eleanor through the window.

"You don't care about a sterile environment," Eloise said, her voice projecting clearly over the storm. "You care about the Cayman Islands offshore account you opened last week."

Eleanor froze. Her mouth hung open.

"Two hours ago," Eloise continued, her tone surgical and precise, "you transferred twenty million dollars into a short-selling fund. You are betting that Barton Montoya dies in transit tonight. When the market opens tomorrow and Montoya Group stock plummets, you cash out."

Eleanor's face turned the color of ash. Her knees gave out, and she slumped back into her seat, her whole body shaking violently.

The air inside the cabin turned to ice. Outside, the mercenaries exchanged uneasy glances.

Tess clamped both hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with terror. She had just heard a corporate secret that could get people buried in concrete.

A terrifying, suffocating killing intent flooded Camden's eyes. He slowly turned his head toward his stepmother.

"It's... it's slander!" Eleanor stammered, her voice cracking. "She's a witch! She's trying to divide our family!"

Camden raised one pale, thin hand. The gesture was slight, but it instantly silenced the cabin.

"Cole," Camden said softly. His voice was gentle, but it carried the lethal hiss of a viper. "Escort Eleanor and Tess to the rear vehicle. If they attempt to step out of that car, break their legs."

"Yes, sir," Cole replied. He stepped forward, grabbed both women by the arms with brutal efficiency, and dragged them out of the ICU truck into the rain.

The heavy doors slammed shut. The cabin was now empty, save for the comatose Barton, Camden in his wheelchair, and Eloise standing at the threshold.

Camden pressed the joystick on his wheelchair, backing up half a meter to clear the path to the medical pod.

He looked at Eloise. "If my grandfather dies," Camden whispered, "I will chain you to that offshore account and sink you both into the Mariana Trench."

Eloise shook the water from her coat and stepped up into the cabin.

She looked down at him, her face completely blank. "Have your nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars ready. I don't take checks."

She walked past him, stopping in front of the massive, transparent intensive care pod. She placed both hands on the heavy metal latches.

Eloise took a deep breath. The dark purple light in her irises flared brilliantly.

She yanked the latches down. A loud hiss of depressurization screamed through the cabin as she ripped the sterile door wide open.

The moment the pod seal broke, the cabin erupted into chaos.

Every medical monitor mounted on the walls flashed blinding red. The EKG machine let out a continuous, ear-piercing scream. The jagged green line on the screen instantly dropped into a dead, flat line.

Barton Montoya's pale skin immediately turned a horrifying, bruised shade of blue-black.

A blast of freezing air rushed out of the pod. It wasn't just the climate control; it was a physical manifestation of death-a heavy, bone-chilling miasma that swept across the floor.

Camden, sitting closest to the pod, took the full force of the metaphysical shockwave.

He gasped, his hands flying to his chest. A violent, tearing cough ripped through his throat. It sounded as if his lungs were collapsing.

He hunched forward, pressing his white handkerchief to his mouth. When he pulled it away, a massive splatter of dark crimson blood soaked the fabric.

The blood hit the air, and instantly, the cabin smelled different. It wasn't the metallic scent of iron. It smelled like burning ozone, radiating a terrifying, scorching heat.

Eloise's head snapped around. Her eyes widened as she stared at the bloody cloth in Camden's hand.

She could feel it. The blood was practically vibrating with an immense, scorching power-a dominant, sovereign life-force she had only read about in the most ancient, forbidden texts.

Eloise didn't think. She moved.

She lunged across the narrow space and snatched the bloody handkerchief right out of Camden's hand.

Outside the window, Cole saw the sudden movement. He roared in fury, drawing his pistol and aiming it at Eloise's back.

Camden fought through the agonizing pain in his chest. He raised two bloody fingers, giving Cole a sharp, commanding signal to stand down. Cole froze, his gun trembling.

Eloise pressed her index and middle fingers hard into the thickest pool of blood on the handkerchief.

The hot, viscous liquid coated her fingertips. The scorching energy of Camden's blood shot straight through her skin, burning down her meridians.

She spun around and slammed her hands onto Barton's chest.

With one brutal pull, she ripped the sterile hospital gown down the middle, exposing the old man's sunken, gray ribcage.

Eloise held her breath. Her bloody fingers flew across Barton's skin. She drew a complex, ancient rune of "Awakening," her movements precise and aggressive.

As she dragged the final stroke across his sternum, the fresh blood flashed with a faint, dark red luminescence.

"Return!" Eloise shouted.

She slammed her open palm directly onto the center of the blood rune.

A massive, invisible shockwave blasted outward. The kinetic force threw Eloise backward. She slammed hard against the metal wall of the cabin, a sharp grunt escaping her lips as the air was knocked from her lungs.

The cabin fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Only the shrill scream of the flatlining EKG monitor continued to wail.

Ten seconds passed. The piercing tone of the flatline alarm drilled into their skulls. Every second felt like an hour.

Camden gripped the armrests of his wheelchair. His knuckles were bone-white. His gray-blue eyes were locked onto his grandfather's motionless chest, his breathing shallow and ragged.

Outside, Cole and the mercenaries pressed their faces against the rain-slicked glass, watching the disaster unfold in absolute horror.

Eloise remained slumped against the metal wall. She was breathing heavily, her face paler than before, but her dark eyes were steady, watching the rune.

Suddenly, the thick blood smeared across Barton's chest began to sink. The skin absorbed the crimson ink as if drinking it in, leaving only a faint red scar in the shape of the rune.

Then, the EKG monitor hitched.

The solid red line spiked upward.

Beep.

Camden's pupils dilated. He leaned forward so hard he nearly tipped out of the wheelchair.

Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The erratic spikes quickly organized into a steady, rhythmic, powerful heartbeat.

The horrifying blue-black hue of death retreated from Barton's face, washing away like dirt under a faucet. A faint, healthy pink flushed his cheeks.

The old man, who had been clinically brain-dead for three days, suddenly arched his back. His chest he heave violently.

Barton opened his mouth and sucked in a massive, ragged breath of air, sounding like a drowning man breaking the surface of the ocean.

Outside the truck, the mercenaries gasped collectively. Cole's jaw dropped. His pistol slipped from his fingers and splashed into the puddles on the asphalt. It was a miracle. A literal defiance of medical science.

Camden's eyes grew red around the edges. His hand trembled violently as he reached out and pressed two fingers against his grandfather's carotid artery.

The pulse was strong. It was beating against his fingertips with undeniable life.

Camden slowly turned his head. He looked at Eloise, who was wiping the remaining blood from her fingers. The look in his eyes was no longer cold or calculating. It was a mixture of absolute shock and a dark, consuming obsession.

Eloise straightened her coat. She walked over to the bed and casually yanked out the IV lines that were pumping useless chemicals into Barton's arm.

"The blood clot in his brain has been dissolved by the rune," Eloise said, her voice returning to its usual flat tone. "But his physical body is exhausted."

She looked down at Camden. "Take him back to your private estate immediately. Do not take him to a hospital. The chemical drugs will destroy the natural life force he just regained."

Camden took a deep, shuddering breath. He forced his emotions down, locking them behind his iron will. He looked up at her, his voice thick with genuine reverence. "Thank you."

Eloise dusted off her hands. She extended her left palm toward him.

"Don't thank me," Eloise said. "Nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars. Pay up."