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Hector only shrunk into his chair, pulling his bag to his chest and looking at the sterile floor.

“Shit, kid. It was a warning, not a threat.” After a moment, Colt shrugged and started walking away. “Fine. Do what you want.”

He watched Colt go, watched him talk with a pair of nurses and a doctor, watched them all scurry away not long after he left them alone.

Hector didn’t have to wait much longer after that. He noticed the men as soon as they entered the intersecting hallway. He counted four, walking together, all wearing sunglasses at night and dark hats indoors. He donned his own mask and stood.

‘They’re here,’ he said.

‘As am I.’ Garovel emerged from the wall and grabbed Hector's shoulder. Hector was starting to get used to the pain. ‘Wait until we’re a hundred percent sure it’s them,’ Garovel said. ‘It’d be awkward if you attacked a dance troupe or something.’

Hector gave him a look.

‘Hey, it’s possible. Maybe one of their members broke his leg during a routine, and they came to visit him in the hospital. You don’t know.’

He waited until they approached the group of officers. When the uniforms started to make way for them, that was good enough confirmation for Hector. He bounded down the hallway. They turned at the sound of his footsteps, but it was far too late for the leftmost thug. Hector barreled into him. The man’s body punched through the thin wall, raining plaster into Melissa’s room. She shrieked.