Chapter 6 - The Confession
My mother looked absolutely pathetic hanging from the heavy steel chains.
Her expensive white suit was torn and stained with dark, freezing grease.
She gasped for air, her lips completely blue from the subzero temperatures.
I stood in the doorway of the freezer and stared at the woman who had ruined my life.
I told my soldiers to stand back while I walked slowly into the freezing room.
My mother begged me to cut her down, promising to give me full control of her offshore accounts.
I ignored her desperate pleas and stood just inches away from her terrified face.
I demanded to know Vincenzo's exact extraction protocol for high-value targets.
She hesitated for a split second, still trying to negotiate for her own miserable survival.
I turned my back on her and started walking out of the freezer, telling my men to lock the door behind me.
She screamed in absolute terror and finally broke completely.
She confessed that Vincenzo owned a private, heavily armed yacht docked at Pier 44.
He planned to take Grace out into international waters where my men could never reach them.
I left my mother hanging there and ordered two guards to watch her until I returned.
I ran back to the armored SUVs, the adrenaline pushing my exhausted body to its absolute limits.
Pier 44 was located on the opposite side of the city, at least a forty-minute drive in this terrible storm.
I grabbed the steering wheel of the lead vehicle and slammed my foot onto the gas pedal.
We tore through the flooded city streets, ignoring red lights and swerving past abandoned cars.
I prayed to God that Grace was strong enough to hold on just a little bit longer.
When we finally reached the docks, the massive black yacht was already untethered from the heavy wooden pier.
The enormous engines roared to life, churning the dark water into violent white foam.
I grabbed a heavy sniper rifle from the backseat and sprinted out onto the slippery wooden planks.
I aimed through the scope, searching frantically for any sign of my wife on the moving deck.
I spotted Vincenzo standing on the top balcony of the yacht, holding a glass of champagne.
He looked directly at me through the pouring rain and offered a mocking, triumphant toast.
I lined up the crosshairs directly on the center of his chest and squeezed the heavy trigger.
The glass in Vincenzo's hand shattered completely, but the bullet sparked off bulletproof glass blocking the balcony.
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Vincenzo merely laughed and pressed a small red button on a remote control in his other hand.
A massive explosion suddenly ripped through the wooden pier directly beneath my feet.
