Chapter 8 - The Shattered Trust
We carried Ava into the grimy, neon-lit basement clinic in Chinatown. Doctor Vance looked up from his desk, his eyes widening in total shock when he saw my face. "Save my daughter, or you die right now," I told him, pressing my pistol against his chest. Vance nodded frantically, ordering his nurses to rush Ava into the sterile operating room. I stood outside the glass window, watching anxiously as they pumped blood into her fragile body. Harper held Emma tightly on a cheap plastic waiting room chair. Claire stood perfectly still by the door, watching the doctor's every single movement. Thirty minutes later, Vance stepped out of the room wiping sweat from his forehead. "She is stable, the bleeding has completely stopped," he panted nervously. I felt a massive wave of relief wash over my tired soul. "I made you a cup of coffee," Vance offered, handing me a steaming paper cup. "You look like you need it." I reached for the cup, but Claire suddenly slapped it out of the doctor's hand. The hot liquid spilled onto the floor, burning through the cheap linoleum like pure acid. "He tried to drug you," Claire stated coldly. She grabbed Vance by the throat and slammed him violently against the concrete wall. "Where is Thomas holding up?" she demanded, pressing her knife against his neck. Vance whimpered, pointing a shaking finger toward the ceiling. "He is in the penthouse of the Vale Tower, surrounded by fifty armed men." Claire dropped the terrified doctor and turned to face me. "We are going to the tower to finish this," she said. I looked at her scarred arms and deadly eyes, realizing how little I actually knew about this woman. "Who are you really, Claire?" I asked suspiciously. She looked down at the floor, a shadow of guilt crossing her face. "Six weeks ago, Thomas hired me to infiltrate your house and assassinate you," she confessed. I raised my gun and aimed it directly at her heart.
