The Sinclair Protocol – My Delivery Girl is a Private Military Queen
By Lea von Löwenstein
Chapter 12: No Mercy
Part 1: Counting Bodies
Sinclair Global HQ – Secure Conference Room
The afternoon light filtered through bulletproof glass as Liv reviewed the casualty reports, her Chanel suit still bearing dried blood from the morning’s violence. The debriefing room’s clinical atmosphere contrasted sharply with the brutal statistics displayed on secure screens.
“Final count from both attacks,” James’s voice carried professional precision. “We lost three of our own. Driver Thomas Chen, killed by the first sniper team. Security officers Sarah Martinez and David Koch, eliminated during the ambush against our HQ yesterday.”
Liv’s burning ice expression remained as she studied their photos. Thomas had been with Sinclair Global for twelve years. Sarah was a former Marine with two young children. David had just completed his advanced tactical certification last month.
“Sebastian’s surgery is proceeding as expected,” James continued, knowing her unspoken priority. “Doctor Chen reports the custom round did exactly what it was designed to do – maximum tissue trauma without hitting major arteries. They knew our ammunition specifications perfectly.”
The afternoon air felt heavy with the weight of lost lives as Liv processed the numbers. “And the attackers?”
“Seven confirmed eliminations. Three by your hand, two by Mr. Blackwood, two by our response teams. Four more severely wounded, including the one you… interviewed. Three escaped, though with significant injuries.”
The afternoon light caught Liv’s expression as it shifted from burning ice to carefully controlled concern. Her Harvard-trained mind momentarily set aside casualty statistics, focusing on the one injury that mattered most personally.
“James,” her voice carried dangerous silk. “Full status on Sebastian’s condition. Now.”
“Doctor Chen completed surgery thirty minutes ago, ma’am. The custom round caused extensive tissue damage to the left shoulder, but they managed to repair the worst of it. Mr. Blackwood is currently in recovery.”
Through secure channels, the medical details scrolled across her tablet: “Severe muscle trauma, partial scapula reconstruction required. The round fragmented exactly as designed – they clearly had access to our restricted ammunition specifications.”
“Recovery timeline?” Her fingers traced the dried blood on her Chanel suit – Sebastian’s blood.
“Eight weeks minimum for basic mobility. Three months before combat readiness. Though,” James added with professional precision, “Doctor Chen notes Mr. Blackwood’s first words upon waking were, and I quote: ‘Tell my wife to stop counting casualties and start planning retribution.'”
The afternoon light shifted as Liv’s burning ice expression focused on the medical updates scrolling across her secure tablet. Beyond Sebastian’s condition, other Sinclair Global employees had paid heavily for this morning’s violence.
“Four additional wounded from the HQ assault,” James reported with precise detail. “Amanda Chen from Accounting, caught in the initial breach – stable but requiring surgery for shrapnel wounds. Security officers Michael Ross and Elena Petrov, both critical but stabilized after engaging the second attack team.”
Liv’s fingers traced the casualty list as James continued: “And Jason Wright from IT. He tried protecting the server room when they attempted to breach it. Multiple GSWs, but Doctor Chen’s team expects full recovery.”
Through secure channels, detailed medical statuses updated in real-time: “All victims stable and receiving treatment in our private medical facility. Full security protocols in place.”
“And the families?” Her voice held dangerous silk.
“All notified and being provided full support, ma’am. Mrs. Martinez and Mr. Koch’s families are already under enhanced protection, given their… final status.”
The afternoon light caught Liv’s predatory smile as she shifted focus to the survivors of their attackers. Her burning ice expression promised something far worse than mere interrogation.
“Four captured hostiles, ma’am,” James reported with clinical precision. “Three in medical custody, heavily sedated due to severe injuries sustained during the assault. The fourth…” his voice held professional satisfaction, “is the one you personally… interviewed. Multiple facial fractures, crushed larynx, shattered knee. Doctor Chen had to perform emergency surgery just to stabilize him.”
Through secure channels, detailed prisoner status scrolled across her tablet: “All under maximum security protocols in the sub-level medical wing. Full biometric monitoring, armed guards, chemical restraints.”
“And their equipment?” Her voice carried lethal silk.
“Being analyzed now. All top-tier tactical gear, custom ammunition matching our restricted specifications. No identifying marks, but the manufacturing quality suggests significant resources.”
Part 2: Inquisitor’s Methods
Sinclair Global HQ – Secure Medical Wing
The afternoon light barely penetrated the sub-level medical wing as Liv entered the secure containment area. Her Chanel suit still bore Sebastian’s dried blood – a constant reminder of exactly why mercy was no longer an option.
“Primary subject is in Cell Three,” James reported through secure channels. “The one you… personally subdued during the road ambush. Doctor Chen has him stabilized enough for questioning.”
The medical wing’s clinical atmosphere carried undertones of controlled violence as Liv approached the cell. Through the observation window, she could see their attacker strapped to a medical bed, his shattered body testament to her earlier fury.
“Interesting,” her voice held burning ice as she studied his vital signs. “Doctor Chen managed to repair his larynx enough for speech. Though I imagine,” her smile turned predatory, “that’s going to be rather painful for him.”
Through secure channels, James maintained professional precision: “Full monitoring systems active, ma’am. Security teams standing by. Though given your… previous interaction with the subject, perhaps medical should remain on alert?”
The afternoon light cast clinical shadows as Liv approached the medical bed, her Harvard-trained mind noting every monitoring device, every vital sign, every twitch of pain across her prisoner’s shattered face.
“I believe,” her voice carried pure silk, “we have some matters to discuss.” Her heels clicked precisely on the sterile floor as she circled his bed. “Though given your current condition, I’ll try to be… efficient.”
The prisoner’s one functioning eye tracked her movement, recognition and fear warring across what remained of his features. Through secure channels, James maintained tactical updates: “Subject’s heart rate elevating, ma’am. Stress indicators rising.”
“You know,” Liv’s burning ice smile never wavered as she adjusted his IV drip with clinical precision, “Doctor Chen did remarkable work stabilizing you. Particularly given how thoroughly I damaged your larynx.” Her fingers traced the medical equipment with dangerous familiarity. “Though I imagine speaking will be… rather uncomfortable.”
The afternoon air crackled with controlled violence as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to lethal whisper: “But then, comfort stopped being a priority the moment you threatened my husband.”
The afternoon light caught the subtle shift in power dynamics as Liv adjusted another setting on the medical equipment. Her burning ice expression never wavered as she watched pain flicker across her prisoner’s damaged features.
“Fascinating thing about our medical protocols,” her voice carried lethal precision. “They’re designed to keep subjects stable through extended… discussions.” Her Harvard-trained mind calculated exact dosages as she modified his pain management. “Rather like our custom ammunition was designed for maximum effect.”
Through secure channels, James maintained clinical updates: “Subject’s stress indicators rising significantly, ma’am. Heart rate and blood pressure approaching threshold limits.”
“You see,” Liv’s smile turned purely predatory as she leaned closer, “while everyone focuses on the socialite heiress, they tend to forget who actually designed Sinclair Global’s more… specialized protocols.” Her fingers traced the monitoring equipment with dangerous familiarity. “Both medical and tactical.”
The afternoon light caught the exact moment the prisoner’s resistance shattered. His one functioning eye widened with pure terror as Liv adjusted another setting on his pain management system, her burning ice smile never wavering.
“P-please,” his damaged larynx produced barely a whisper, each word clearly agony. “You don’t understand… what they’ll do…”
“Fascinating choice of words,” her voice carried lethal silk as she monitored his vital signs. “Though perhaps not as fascinating as explaining who ‘they’ are.” Her Harvard-trained mind catalogued every micro-expression of fear across his shattered features.
Through secure channels, James maintained clinical precision: “Subject’s stress indicators reaching critical levels, ma’am. Beginning chemical intervention to prevent cardiac events.”
“The c-contract,” blood trickled from his repaired throat as he forced out words. “Private military… highest bidder… wasn’t personal…”
The afternoon air crackled with controlled violence as Liv’s smile turned purely predatory. “Oh darling,” her fingers traced another medical setting, “everything became personal the moment you touched my husband.”
The afternoon light cast merciless shadows as the prisoner’s secrets spilled from his damaged throat. Each word clearly agony, but Liv’s burning ice expression ensured his cooperation.
“Private… military contract,” blood trickled from his repaired larynx. “Through shell companies… highest bidder wanted… corporate takeover.”
Through secure channels, James maintained clinical updates: “Recording all details, ma’am. Cross-referencing with financial databases.”
“The target list,” Liv’s voice held lethal silk as she adjusted his pain management. “Every name. Every position. Every planned casualty.”
His functioning eye darted frantically as he complied, spilling details about infiltration points, security weaknesses, timed assaults. Her Harvard-trained mind catalogued each revelation, building a precise picture of their enemy’s strategy.
“The ammunition… the protocols…” blood stained his medical dressing. “Inside source… someone who knew… your systems…”
Part 3: Critical Moments
Sinclair Global HQ – Medical Wing
The afternoon light painted harsh shadows through the medical wing’s reinforced windows as Liv moved with lethal purpose. Her Chanel suit still bore Sebastian’s dried blood as she followed Doctor Chen’s urgent summons.
“Status,” her voice held burning ice as she entered the surgical preparation area.
“The custom round’s fragmentation pattern is causing cascading tissue damage,” Chen’s professional calm carried undertones of concern. “Secondary trauma expanding beyond initial impact zone. We need to go back in immediately.”
Through secure channels, James maintained tactical updates: “Interrogation team proceeding with prisoner, ma’am. New details emerging about the contract structure and shell companies.”
But Liv’s Harvard-trained mind focused solely on Sebastian’s vital signs displayed across the medical screens. The afternoon air felt heavy with antiseptic and urgency as she watched his blood pressure fluctuate.
“Our own ammunition,” her voice carried dangerous silk. “Designed for exactly this type of expanding damage pattern.”
The afternoon light caught Liv’s burning ice expression as it finally cracked. Her Harvard-trained composure shattered while watching Doctor Chen’s team prep Sebastian for emergency surgery, the clinical efficiency only highlighting the devastating stakes.
“Blood pressure dropping,” a nurse reported with professional urgency. “Secondary tissue damage expanding through deltoid region.”
Through the observation window, Liv watched them position surgical equipment with precise care. Her fingers pressed against the glass as Sebastian’s vital signs fluctuated on the monitors, each dip sending waves of raw fear through her carefully maintained control.
“Our own ammunition,” her voice barely a whisper, all traces of lethal silk gone. “I designed those rounds myself. The expansion pattern, the tissue disruption…” Her legs trembled slightly as the implications hit fully. “I created the very thing that might kill him.”
The afternoon light shifted as Raj Sinclair’s commanding presence filled the observation area. The Sinclair patriarch’s aristocratic features showed controlled concern as he found his daughter pressed against the surgical window, her burning ice facade finally broken by fear.
“Olivia,” his voice carried decades of authority and paternal steel. “Your husband is stronger than our ammunition designs.”
Through secure channels, medical updates continued streaming, but Raj’s focus remained on his daughter. He’d watched her build herself into the lethal force behind Sinclair Global’s power, but now he saw only the brilliant girl who’d once designed security protocols at his kitchen table.
“Papa,” her voice barely a whisper, using the childhood term she reserved for moments of pure vulnerability. “I created those rounds. The expansion pattern, the tissue disruption…”
“And Sebastian knew exactly what he was marrying into,” Raj’s tone held dangerous pride as he steadied his daughter. “A Blackwood married to a Sinclair – he understood the risks. Now,” his voice gained lethal purpose, “tell me what you’ve learned from our guest about who dared use our weapons against our family.”
The afternoon light caught the shift in Liv’s expression as she drew strength from her father’s presence. Through secure channels, James’s voice carried urgent revelation:
“Ma’am, interrogation team reporting critical intel. The prisoner’s broken completely. Private military contractors were hired through a series of shell companies, but the money trail…” his voice held professional tension, “leads back to Singapore.”
Raj’s aristocratic features showed dangerous focus as he processed this detail. “Singapore,” his voice carried lethal understanding. “Where our restricted ammunition specifications are manufactured.”
“Three shell corporations,” Liv’s burning ice began returning as she watched Chen’s team work on Sebastian. “Each one created exactly six months ago. Using documentation that perfectly matched our security protocols.”
Through secure channels, more details emerged: “Confirmed insider access, ma’am. Someone with intimate knowledge of both Sinclair Global’s defensive systems and our restricted weapons development.”
“Which means,” Raj’s tone held pure predator, “we’re looking at betrayal from within our inner circle.”
The afternoon light caught the exact moment Doctor Chen’s surgical team achieved stability. Sebastian’s vital signs steadied on the monitors as they contained the expanding tissue damage, each number climbing back into safer territory.
“Secondary hemorrhage controlled,” Chen reported with clinical precision. “Custom round fragments isolated and extracted. Blood pressure returning to acceptable range.”
Through secure channels, James maintained tactical updates, but Liv’s burning ice focus remained locked on her husband’s stabilizing condition. Raj’s aristocratic presence provided silent support as they watched the medical team begin closing.
“The ammunition performed exactly as designed,” Liv’s voice held dangerous silk as she processed both relief and fury. “Which means whoever supplied it knew precisely how long it would take for the secondary damage to manifest.”
“Making the timing of their revelation about Singapore rather… convenient,” Raj’s tone carried lethal understanding. “Almost as if they wanted us distracted by Sebastian’s condition while we processed that information.”
