Chapter 5 - CONFESSIONS IN THE DARK
The sub-basement of the Duca estate was a labyrinth of concrete corridors designed to withstand anything from a police raid to a tactical military assault. At the end of the longest hallway sat a heavy steel door, unmarked and heavily secured. This was the interrogation room, a place where the rules of the outside world ceased to exist.
Lorenzo walked down the corridor, the air growing colder with every step. He had just come from Lucas’s safe room. Mara had arrived with the Prussian Blue antidote and had begun the agonizing process of chelation therapy. Lucas was thrashing in a drug-induced coma, his tiny body fighting a violent war against the poison being stripped from his cells. Watching his son suffer had hardened the last remaining piece of Lorenzo’s humanity into cold, impenetrable iron.
He keyed the biometric lock. The steel door hissed open.
The room was lit by a single, harsh fluorescent bulb hanging from the ceiling. Vivian Chen was strapped to a heavy iron chair bolted to the concrete floor. Her designer dress was torn, her makeup smeared across her face in black, jagged streaks. She looked up as Lorenzo entered, her eyes wild with animal terror.
Daniel stood in the shadows in the corner, his arms crossed.
Lorenzo pulled up a simple wooden stool and sat directly in front of Vivian. He didn't bring any tools. He didn't bring any weapons. He didn't need them.
"Who do you work for, Vivian?" Lorenzo asked quietly.
Vivian thrashed against the leather restraints. "You're insane! I love Lucas! I love you! I don't know what you're talking about! Call my lawyers!"
Lorenzo sighed. It was a soft, tired sound. He looked at Daniel. "Break her left hand."
Daniel stepped out of the shadows, grabbed Vivian’s left hand, which was strapped to the armrest, and brought his heavy tactical boot down on her fingers with a sickening, wet crunch.
Vivian’s scream echoed off the concrete walls, a high-pitched wail of pure agony. She sobbed, her head hanging forward, gasping for air as the pain radiated through her arm.
"I am not a police officer, Vivian," Lorenzo said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "I do not care about your rights. I do not care about your lawyers. You have been slowly murdering my six-year-old son for three years. I have hours, days, weeks to dismantle you piece by piece. Who do you work for?"
Vivian looked up, spit and blood mixing on her chin. The mask was entirely gone now, revealing the hardened, fanatical assassin beneath the glamorous exterior. She laughed, a broken, hysterical sound.
"You're already dead, Lorenzo," she spat. "You just don't know it yet. You spent the last three years crying over that pathetic little boy. You neglected your territory. You ignored the supply lines. You were so blinded by grief that you didn't see the wolves surrounding your house."
"The Volkov Syndicate," Lorenzo deduced, his eyes narrowing. The Russians. They had been encroaching on the northern docks for months, taking advantage of Lorenzo’s frequent absences while he traveled the world looking for doctors.
"They own the ports now," Vivian sneered, wincing as her broken hand throbbed. "They own the judges. They own the police chief. My job was to keep you distracted. Keep the boy sick, but not dead. Keep you chasing ghosts. And when he finally died... I was supposed to marry you. Become the grieving stepmother. Inherit the Duca empire when they finally put a bullet in the back of your head."
Lorenzo leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "How many men do they have?"
"Hundreds," Vivian laughed bitterly. "And when I miss my check-in call at noon today, they will know I've been compromised. They won't wait. They will hit this estate with everything they have. You can't stop them, Lorenzo. Your guards are outnumbered. Your empire is hollow."
Lorenzo stared at her for a long, silent moment. He processed the tactical information, absorbing the reality that a massive assault on his home was imminent.
He stood up, kicking the wooden stool away.
"Daniel," Lorenzo said, turning his back on Vivian.
"Yes, Boss?"
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"Leave her strapped to the chair. Turn off the lights. Lock the door. Do not feed her. Do not give her water. If she survives until tomorrow, we will figure out what to do with her. Right now, we have a war to prepare for."
As Lorenzo walked out of the room, Vivian began to scream again, the heavy steel door slamming shut and plunging her into absolute, terrifying darkness.
