Chapter 7 - The Iron Chain
I woke up with a violently throbbing headache, my hands securely bound behind my back with thick zip-ties.
I was kneeling on the polished wooden deck of the yacht, the cold sea breeze whipping harshly against my face.
Dr. Sterling stood towering over me, holding a crystal glass of champagne and looking incredibly disappointed.
Vanessa leaned casually against the metal railing, tossing my stolen cell phone carelessly into the dark ocean waters.
"You are quite the persistent little housewife, Clara, I will give you credit for that," Dr. Sterling sneered down at me.
"The federal authorities already know everything about your illegal organ harvesting ring," I lied boldly, trying to hide my absolute terror.
Sterling laughed, a deep and booming sound that echoed ominously across the quiet, isolated harbor.
"The local police are completely in my pocket, and the FBI has no jurisdiction without physical proof," he gloated arrogantly.
He snatched the L. Monroe file from a nearby table and tossed it directly into a small metal fire pit burning on the deck.
I watched in complete horror as the only physical evidence of his monstrous crimes dissolved instantly into black ash.
"Now that the paperwork is gone, we simply need to dispose of you to tie up the final loose end," Vanessa said coldly.
A large shadow stepped out from the cabin, holding a heavy iron anchor chain in his massive hands.
My heart dropped when I recognized the face of the man preparing to execute me.
It was the exact same tactical police officer who had aggressively arrested Nathan in his office earlier that afternoon.
"Wrap the chain tightly around her waist and throw her over the side," Sterling ordered without a single ounce of remorse.
The corrupt officer yanked me roughly to my feet, wrapping the freezing iron links tightly around my ribs.
I knew that if I went into that dark water weighted down by iron, I would never see the surface again.
I remembered the sharp silver scalpel Nathan had slipped into my pocket right before he pretended to take me hostage.
I twisted my wrists awkwardly behind my back, my frantic fingers desperately searching the deep lining of my stolen jacket.
The officer shoved me forcefully toward the railing, lifting my bound legs over the edge of the boat.
My fingers finally brushed the cold steel handle of the surgical blade just as he prepared to push me into the abyss.
I gripped the scalpel tightly and sliced upward with every ounce of desperate strength I possessed.
The razor-sharp blade cleanly severed the thick plastic zip-ties binding my wrists in a single, fluid motion.
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I spun around rapidly and slashed the officer deeply across his forearm, causing him to howl in sudden agony and drop the heavy chain.
I did not hesitate for a fraction of a second before diving headfirst over the railing into the freezing, murky water below.
