Chapter 4 - The Poisoned Legacy
|
We arrived at the perimeter of the abandoned waterworks fifteen minutes later. The dilapidated concrete structure loomed over the raging river like a hollowed-out skull, surrounded by rusted iron fences and overgrown pine trees.
“You can’t go in there alone, Adrian,” Marco warned, grabbing my shoulder as I reached for the door handle. “It’s a kill box. She’ll have snipers posted on the upper catwalks.”
“My son is being born in there, Marco,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I don't care if there’s an army inside. I’m going.”
Bellini handed me a compact earpiece. “Put this in. We will position ourselves on the north ridge. The moment you secure Grace, give us the signal and we will clear the building.”
I nodded, slipped the earpiece into my ear, and stepped out into the pouring rain.
The heavy steel doors of the waterworks groaned loudly as I pushed them open. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of rust, stagnant water, and damp concrete. Rain dripped rhythmically from the high, vaulted ceiling, echoing like hollow footsteps.
In the center of the vast industrial chamber, illuminated by a single hanging work light, sat Grace.
She was tied to a heavy wooden chair, her hands bound behind her back. Her face was pale, slick with sweat, and her breath came in rapid, shallow gasps. Her hands were clutching her massive bump.
“Adrian...” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. “Adrian, please...”
“Grace!”
I took two fast steps toward her, but the loud sound of a gun cocking stopped me dead in my tracks.
From the shadows behind Grace stepped a woman who looked terrifyingly like Elena Moretti—except her eyes were sunken, dark, and filled with an unhinged, feral hatred.
May you like
Sophia held a high-caliber revolver pressed directly against the side of Grace’s head.
“Take one more step, Adrian,” Sophia sneered, “and your family line ends right here.”
