Chapter 5 - THE BLOOD ON THE ALTAR
“Hello, Adrien,” Viko said, brushing a raindrop from the lapel of his coat. His voice was smooth, cultured, perfectly suited for the country clubs and boardrooms he had infiltrated over the last three years. “It’s been a long time.”
Adrien didn’t stand up. He shifted his weight, sliding his hand beneath the table to grip his Sig Sauer. He pushed Leo down onto the vinyl seat, gesturing for Lena to cover the boy.
“Viko,” Adrien replied, his tone conversational, belying the coiled violence in his posture. “You’re looking well. The betrayal suits you.”
Viko smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s business, Boss. You know that better than anyone. You abandoned the throne. You left Chicago in chaos. I just cleaned up the mess you left behind.”
“By blowing up a warehouse with my wife inside?” Adrien’s voice dropped an octave, the temperature in the diner seeming to plunge.
Viko sighed, feigning regret. “Maria was collateral damage. She wouldn’t give up the key. She told me she hid it, but she wouldn’t say where.” Viko’s eyes shifted to the table, landing on the torn stuffed bear and the silver key resting next to the salt shaker. His eyes lit up with greedy triumph. “Ah. There it is.”
Lena pressed herself over Leo, her heart pounding against the diner table. She looked desperately at the back kitchen door, but Rosa was gone, and a fourth armed man was stepping out from the hallway, cutting off their escape.
“Give me the key, Adrien,” Viko said, stepping forward. “Give me the boy. And I’ll let you and the maid walk out that front door. I give you my word.”
“Your word died three years ago,” Adrien said.
In a fraction of a second, the diner erupted.
Adrien flipped the heavy wooden table upward, creating a makeshift barricade. Bullets tore into the wood, showering Lena and Leo with splinters. Adrien fired blindly from behind the table, two rapid shots that dropped the man coming from the kitchen.
“To the kitchen! Go!” Adrien roared over the deafening gunfire.
Lena grabbed Leo, hoisting the terrified child into her arms, and scrambled over the booth. The kitchen was a narrow gauntlet of stainless steel prep tables. Pots and pans crashed to the floor as bullets shattered the tile walls.
Adrien backed into the kitchen, laying down cover fire. He aimed for the hanging fluorescent lights in the main dining area, shooting them out one by one. The diner plunged into darkness, illuminated only by the strobe-light flashes of muzzle fire.
Lena reached the heavy steel back door. Rosa had left it unlocked in her panic. She pushed it open, the freezing rain hitting her face.
She turned to see Adrien backing toward the door. Viko’s men were closing in. One of them rounded the corner of the cook line, raising a shotgun.
Adrien twisted, firing at the man, but the shotgun roared.
Adrien let out a sharp, breathless grunt. He stumbled, his shoulder slamming into the doorframe.
“Adrien!” Lena screamed.
“Move!” he snarled, pushing her out into the alley and slamming the steel door shut behind them. He grabbed a heavy metal mop bucket and jammed it under the door handle, buying them seconds.
They ran. Lena carried Leo, her muscles burning, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Adrien ran beside her, but his pace was uneven. He was holding his side, his face dangerously pale under the streetlights. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining his shirt a terrible, dark crimson.
“You’re hit,” Lena gasped.
“Keep running,” he gritted out.
They crossed two streets, diving down narrow residential alleys. The wail of police sirens began to rise in the distance, a chaotic symphony responding to the gunfire at the diner.
They reached the end of a block. Towering in front of them was an old, abandoned Catholic church. Its stained-glass windows were boarded up, its massive oak doors chained shut.
Adrien stumbled, dropping to one knee on the wet pavement.
“No, no, get up,” Lena pleaded, pulling at his uninjured arm. “We have to hide.”
Adrien reached up with a bloody hand and grabbed the heavy padlock securing the church doors. He pointed his gun at the iron casing and fired point-blank. The lock shattered.
Lena dragged him inside, pulling the heavy doors shut. The church was pitch black, smelling of dust, old incense, and decay. The only light came from the streetlamps filtering through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, casting long, skeletal shadows across the empty pews.
Adrien collapsed against the base of a stone pillar in the narthex. His breathing was shallow and wet.
Lena set Leo down gently. “Stay right here, sweetie. Don't move.”
She dropped to her knees beside Adrien, unzipping his leather jacket. Her hands were shaking violently as she pulled his shirt up. The shotgun blast had caught him in the right side, just below the ribs. It wasn’t a direct hit—the buckshot had spread—but three pellets had torn deeply into his flesh. He was bleeding fast.
“I need to stop the bleeding,” Lena panicked, ripping off her own blouse, leaving her in just her camisole. She bundled the fabric and pressed it hard against the wound.
Adrien hissed in pain, his head falling back against the stone pillar.
“Talk to me,” Lena ordered, pressing her weight onto his side. “Keep your eyes open. Tell me about the key. What does it open?”
Adrien swallowed hard, his eyes glassy. Answer One, Open Two. “Downtown,” he rasped. “First National Bank. Vault 414. Maria... she found out Viko was stealing from the syndicate. Embezzling millions. But she found something else, too.”
“What?” Lena pushed harder on the wound. His blood was warm and sticky on her hands.
“Proof,” Adrien whispered. “Viko isn’t just a traitor. He’s an informant. He’s been feeding our people to the Feds for five years to protect himself. If the other lieutenants find out... they’ll skin him alive.”
Lena stared at him. The puzzle pieces clicked into place. Viko wasn't trying to execute a coup tomorrow night—he was trying to silence everyone who could possibly threaten him, using the fake meeting as a trap. And he needed the key to destroy the evidence before he took the throne.
“The boy,” Adrien gasped, his hand gripping Lena’s wrist with surprising strength. “If I don't make it... you take the key. You take Leo. Go to the bank in the morning. Use the evidence to buy your freedom from the Feds.”
“Stop talking like that,” Lena snapped, tears finally spilling over her lashes. “You’re not dying. You can't leave him.”
Adrien looked past her, his eyes locking onto Leo, who was sitting quietly in the shadows, clutching his torn bear. A profound, heartbreaking sorrow washed over Adrien’s face.
“I’ve already failed him,” Adrien whispered. “I couldn't protect his mother. I couldn't protect him tonight.” His eyes drifted back to Lena. “You’re a good person, Lena Carter. You shouldn’t have opened that door.”
His eyes rolled back, and his head slumped forward. He was unconscious.
Panic seized Lena’s chest. She pressed harder on the wound, but the fabric was already soaked through. He needed a hospital. He needed surgery. If she stayed here, he would bleed out on the cold stone floor.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the cavernous sanctuary.
Someone had just kicked open the shattered front doors.
May you like
Lena froze. Heavy footsteps crunched over broken glass in the narthex.
“Adrien!” Viko’s voice boomed through the empty church, echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “I can follow the blood trail, old friend. There’s nowhere left to run.”
