Chapter 6 - The Freezing Docks
I did not hesitate for a fraction of a second.
I leaned around the doorframe and fired three rapid shots, dropping the lead gunman instantly.
The remaining two mercenaries scrambled for cover behind the ruined mattress.
I grabbed Delia by the collar of her jacket and shoved her toward the small frosted window above the bathtub.
"Climb through, now!" I ordered over the deafening roar of suppressing fire.
She scrambled over the porcelain rim and threw herself through the shattered glass into the freezing alleyway.
I laid down another volley of fire, backing out of the bathroom just as the mercenaries shredded the door with bullets.
I dove through the window, landing hard on the icy pavement beside Delia.
We scrambled to our feet and sprinted down the narrow alley, putting distance between us and the motel.
Marcus had heard the gunfire and was already pulling the armored sedan around the corner.
We dove into the backseat as Marcus floored the accelerator, tearing away from the industrial district.
"Where are we going, sir?" Marcus yelled over the roaring engine.
I looked at Delia, who was bleeding from a fresh cut on her cheek.
"We need to find the truth, and we aren't going to find it in this city."
Delia wiped the blood from her face, her eyes filled with a terrifying resolve.
"Ray told me about a hidden underground bunker beneath the old shipyard on the East Side."
"He said Celeste uses it to store the physical ledgers of her family's black market operations."
I nodded to Marcus, who sharply spun the steering wheel, redirecting us toward the frozen coastline.
We arrived at the abandoned shipyard an hour later, the massive steel cranes rusting in the winter wind.
We abandoned the car and moved on foot, navigating through the maze of empty shipping containers.
Delia led us to a heavy iron grate hidden beneath a pile of discarded wooden pallets.
I helped her pry it open, revealing a dark, concrete stairwell descending into the earth.
We climbed down into the bunker, finding a sprawling room filled with filing cabinets and a massive steel safe.
"This is it," Delia whispered, shining a flashlight across the rows of manila folders.
I began tearing through the cabinets, looking for anything related to the Pier 44 fire.
But what I found was infinitely worse than a shipping manifest.
I pulled out a thick red binder labeled with my mother's name.
Inside were hundreds of medical charts, forged prescriptions, and detailed payment logs.
Celeste's family hadn't just been holding my brother hostage for six years.
They had been paying my mother's exclusive private doctor to slowly, methodically poison her.
The paralysis wasn't from a stroke; it was a neurotoxin administered daily to keep her silent and compliant.
May you like
And at the bottom of the final page, a terrifying note was scribbled in blue ink.
"Administer the final, lethal dose on the morning of the wedding."
