Chapter 5 - BLOOD ON THE CONCRETE
Daniel moved through the shadows of the containers, his heart pounding a violent rhythm against his ribs. The warehouse floor was slick with oil and grime. He reached Container 04.
He pressed his face against the cold metal and peered through the small, grated vent. "Hello?" he whispered. "Is someone in there?"
A ragged gasp echoed from the darkness inside. "Maya? Maya, is that you?!" The voice was Spanish-accented, broken by weeping and terror.
"No, my name is Daniel. Maya is safe. She and the baby are at the hospital. I came to get you out."
"Oh, thank God. Thank God," the woman sobbed. "Please, they told me they threw them on the street because I wouldn't sign the papers. Please, get me out!"
Daniel grabbed the heavy Master Lock securing the door, but it was solid steel. He looked around frantically for a crowbar or bolt cutters.
"Well, well, well."
The voice echoed through the warehouse, oily and smooth. The harsh overhead lights suddenly flared to life, blinding Daniel. He spun around, raising a hand to shield his eyes.
Standing thirty feet away, flanked by three armed men, was Richard Vance. The CEO of SafeHaven. He was still wearing the custom Italian tuxedo he had worn to the gala, though the bowtie was undone.
"Daniel Whitmore," Richard sighed, shaking his head. "I thought you were a smart man. A man who understood how the world really works. You write the checks, you get the tax write-off, you feel like a saint. Why did you have to go wandering in the dark?"
"You're a monster," Daniel snarled, stepping away from the container. "You take millions in donations and use it to fund a slave camp."
"It's an ecosystem," Richard corrected smoothly. "These women have nothing. We give them purpose. We manufacture cheap goods, we funnel the profits back into the charity's administrative fees, and everyone wins. Except for Elena here. She tried to organize a strike. So, her kids had to learn a lesson."
"The police are already on their way," Daniel bluffed, tightening his grip on the heavy Maglite.
Richard laughed. "No, they aren't. Because if they were, they'd be here by now. Kill him. Make it look like a robbery gone wrong."
The men raised their weapons.
But they forgot to look up.
Marcus dropped from the catwalk like a shadow, landing directly on the shoulders of the closest guard. The man crumpled with a sickening crunch. Before the other two could react, Marcus drew his suppressed pistol and fired twice. Both men dropped to the concrete, screaming and clutching their shattered kneecaps.
Richard Vance panicked. He pulled a small revolver from his tuxedo jacket and aimed it at Marcus.
Daniel didn't think. He charged. He crossed the distance in a fraction of a second, swinging the heavy metal flashlight like a baseball bat. It connected with Richard's wrist with a wet snap. The CEO shrieked, dropping the gun and falling to his knees.
Daniel grabbed Richard by the lapels of his expensive tuxedo, hauling him up until they were nose to nose. "Impact," Daniel whispered, quoting the man's own gala speech. "How's that for impact?"
May you like
He threw Richard to the concrete floor, leaving him groaning in a heap.
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