Chapter 6 - THE GHOST OF ROUTE 9
The cold steel of the hunting knife pressed against Chloe's cheek, drawing a tiny bead of crimson that trickled down her skin like a tear of blood.
Chloe let out a muffled, choked scream through the duct tape.
"Stop!" Emma screamed, scrambling forward across the rough concrete. "Don't touch her! I'll do it! I'll call him!"
Viktor paused, pulling the blade back just a fraction of an inch. A smug, victorious smile spread across his scarred face. He lowered his knife and motioned to the guard holding Chloe.
"Smart girl," Viktor purred. "Smart girls live longer. Now, walk over to the barrel by the door, pick up your phone, and make the call. Remember the script: you were grabbed outside the estate, you managed to escape to the municipal yard, and you need Moretti to come alone right now."
Emma scrambled to her feet, her legs shaking so badly she nearly stumbled. She cast one agonizing look toward her sister, who was sobbing uncontrollably, before turning and running back toward the open warehouse door.
She stepped out into the biting night air, her hands trembling as she reached for her phone resting on the wooden barrel.
Her mind raced at a thousand miles an hour. If she dialed Luca’s number, his security detail would trace the call instantly, but by the time a rescue team arrived at the docks, Viktor would have already slit Chloe's throat. She had to buy time. She had to trick Viktor into believing she was making the call while finding a way to signal for help.
She picked up the phone, unlocked the screen, and tapped on recent contacts.
Luca Moretti.
Her finger hovered over the call button. She took a deep, shaky breath and pressed it to her ear.
The line rang once. Twice.
“Answer,” Emma prayed silently. “Please answer.”
"Emma?"
Luca’s deep, tense voice came through the speaker instantly, cutting through the background noise of screaming sirens and shouting voices at the mansion.
"Mr. Moretti," Emma breathed, pitching her voice to sound frantic and panicked, just as Viktor wanted. "Thank God... Mr. Moretti, you have to help me—"
Before she could finish the scripted lie, a heavy hand slammed down onto her shoulder, ripping the phone from her ear.
Viktor stood right behind her, a dark shadow in the doorway. He had followed her out.
"Not so fast," Viktor sneered, snatching the phone from her hand and pressing the speakerphone button. He raised his voice, shouting directly into the receiver. "Listen up, Moretti! Your little housemaid is ours. If you ever want to see her—or your precious new nephew—again, you come down to Pier 42 alone within thirty minutes. No cops. No guards. Just you."
There was a terrifying, dead silence on the other end of the line.
For three full seconds, nobody breathed.
Then, Luca's voice came back through the speaker—not panicked, not angry, but frighteningly calm, cold as arctic ice.
"Viktor," Luca said quietly. "You stupid bastard. Did you really think I didn't trace her phone the second she walked out of my house?"
Viktor’s smile faltered. His eyes widened slightly as he looked down at the screen.
"What are you talking about?" Viktor snapped.
"I'm talking about the fact that my security team has had you surrounded for the last ten minutes," Luca's voice echoed through the cold night air.
Suddenly, the darkness around Pier 42 exploded into blinding white light.
A dozen high-beam headlights flared simultaneously, turning the abandoned docks as bright as midday. Heavy black SUVs blocked every exit of the pier, their doors flying open as heavily armed men in tactical gear poured out, weapons raised and locked on the warehouse doors.
Viktor spun around, dropping Emma’s phone to the ground where it shattered into pieces. He drew his pistol, lunging backward into the warehouse. "Take the girl! Move, move, move!"
Two guards grabbed Chloe, hoisting her up by her arms as they scrambled toward the rear loading bay facing the dark waters of Lake Michigan, where a speedboat idled against the wooden dock.
Emma didn't hesitate. Ignoring the danger, she lunged forward, grabbing a heavy iron wrench off a nearby tool cart and swinging it with all her might.
Clang!
The heavy wrench struck one of the guards across the back, sending him crashing into a stack of wooden crates. Chloe stumbled forward as her captor lost his grip.
"Emma!" Chloe cried out, her voice breaking as Emma tore the duct tape from her sister's mouth.
Before Viktor could raise his weapon to fire at them, the front sliding doors of the warehouse were kicked inward with a deafening crash.
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Framed in the blinding headlights outside, standing at the head of his tactical team with a dark coat billowing in the lake wind, was Luca Moretti.
And beside him, holding a heavy steel pipe with a look of cold, unrelenting vengeance in his eyes, was Arthur Carter—the janitor from Westbrook High.
