Chapter 19 - The Father's Sins
Arthur Mercer looked like a demon bathed in the eerie red glow of the emergency lights, his wheelchair blocking the only exit from the surgical suite.
He held the heavy revolver with surprising steadiness, his sunken eyes burning with the absolute madness of a dying king.
"You really thought you could destroy my empire with a fire extinguisher, Damien?" Arthur wheezed, cocking the hammer of the gun.
"Put the gun down, old man," Damien growled, placing his body firmly in front of me to shield Ethan and Noah from the weapon.
"I built this legacy from the ashes, and I will not let a disobedient boy and a filthy hospital nurse take it away from me," Arthur spat, his finger tightening on the trigger.
I looked wildly around the room for any kind of weapon, my eyes landing on the pressurized oxygen tanks strapped to Arthur's own wheelchair.
I realized that if I could puncture those tanks, the resulting explosion would destroy the room, but it might be our only chance.
Before I could move, Damien stepped slowly toward his father, completely ignoring the gun pointed at his heart.
"You didn't build a legacy, Dad. You built a graveyard, and you buried our entire family in it," Damien said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
Arthur’s hand trembled slightly as Damien continued to walk forward, the sheer emotional weight of the confrontation causing the old man to hesitate.
"Shoot me, Arthur. Take my blood, take my marrow, take whatever you want, but you are not touching my children," Damien offered, stopping inches away from the barrel.
Arthur stared at his son, a flicker of genuine regret crossing his sociopathic face before the desperate will to survive completely took over.
"You were never a match, Damien," Arthur whispered, preparing to pull the trigger to eliminate the only obstacle between him and his grandsons.
I didn't wait for the gunshot; I grabbed a full syringe of concentrated epinephrine from the surgical tray beside me.
With a primal scream, I lunged forward, plunging the long needle directly into the side of Arthur’s frail, diseased neck.
I slammed the plunger down, injecting a massive, lethal dose of pure adrenaline directly into his heavily compromised cardiovascular system.
Arthur’s eyes went completely wide, dropping the revolver as his hands flew to his throat in absolute agony.
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His weakened heart, already failing from the leukemia, violently spasmed as the massive chemical spike completely overloaded his system.
He convulsed violently in his wheelchair, gasping for air as his empire literally collapsed around him in the flashing red darkness.
