Chapter 7 - THE DOCTOR’S PRESCRIPTION
The voice sent a paralyzing jolt of ice straight into my marrow.
Dr. Elias Thorne.
Even after twenty-seven years, I recognized the smooth, clinical tone. It was the same voice that had gently told me my babies had died, right before he had quietly shipped them off to monsters.
“Down the hall. Now,” Julian hissed, shoving Rachel, Carolina, Evelyn, and me toward the kitchen corridor.
I swiped the brass master key fob against the service elevator panel. The light blinked green, and the heavy metal doors slid open.
Evelyn pulled Carolina inside. Rachel grabbed my arm, trying to pull me in with them.
“Come on, Mom!” Rachel cried.
I looked back into the dim red glow of the living room.
Julian was standing in the center of the room, holding his chef’s knife, placing himself directly between the armed men and our escape route. Beside him, James and Daniel were frozen in terror on the floor.
“I’m not leaving him,” I said, my voice resolute. I ripped my arm from Rachel’s grip. “Take the elevator down to the lobby. Find the FBI. Go!”
I slammed my hand against the ‘Close Doors’ button just as Rachel lunged for me. The heavy doors shut, locking my daughters safely inside the descending car.
I turned back to the living room.
Dr. Elias Thorne stepped fully into the red emergency light. He was in his early seventies, impeccably dressed in a tailored black overcoat, holding a suppressed pistol with terrifying ease. He looked nothing like the warm, caring physician I remembered. He looked like death in a bespoke suit.
Two armed mercenaries fanned out behind him, their rifles raised.
“Well,” Elias sighed, stepping over the unconscious body of his lawyer. “This is a mess. I pay exorbitant retainers to avoid exactly this sort of chaotic family reunion.”
Answer One: Elias Thorne wasn't just a black-market broker; he was the head of a massive, heavily armed syndicate, and he had come personally to eliminate the witnesses who could link him to Arthur Whitmore. Open Two: If Elias is here to kill everyone, why is he wasting time talking? And how did James and Daniel survive this long if Elias knew they were alive?
Elias looked at Julian, eyeing the chef’s knife. He smiled, a cold, clinical stretch of lips.
“Ah. The lost boy,” Elias chuckled. “I recognize the jawline. You survived the man I sold you to. Impressive. But bringing a knife to a gunfight is terribly cliché.”
“It only takes one cut,” Julian growled, his muscles coiled tight.
Elias aimed his pistol at Julian’s chest. “True. But I prefer distance.”
Before Elias could pull the trigger, James suddenly moved.
For twenty-seven years, my husband had been a coward. He had run from his debts, he had run from his family, and he had run from the consequences of his actions.
But in that split second, looking at the son he had abandoned, something in James finally broke.
With a guttural scream, James threw himself off the floor, tackling the mercenary closest to Elias.
The sudden movement startled Elias. He fired, but the bullet went wide, shattering the grand piano in the corner.
“Run, Julian!” James roared, wrestling the heavy rifle away from the mercenary.
Reversal: The coward finally found his courage, but at the cost of his own life.
The second mercenary didn't hesitate. He raised his rifle and fired a three-round burst directly into James’s chest.
James fell backward onto the marble floor, blood blossoming across his white shirt. He didn't scream. He just looked at me, a silent, desperate apology in his eyes, before they went glass-still.
“No!” Daniel screamed, dropping to his knees beside his brother.
The distraction was all Julian needed.
He didn't run away. He lunged forward. He threw the chef’s knife with devastating precision. The heavy blade buried itself in the shoulder of the mercenary who had shot James. The man dropped his rifle, howling in pain.
Julian closed the distance in a heartbeat, grabbing the dropped rifle from the floor. He swung the heavy stock upward, smashing it into the second mercenary’s jaw, knocking him out cold.
It was a burst of violent efficiency that took less than five seconds.
Elias Thorne backed up rapidly, raising his pistol again, but Julian already had the stolen rifle aimed dead at the doctor’s head.
“Drop it, Elias,” Julian breathed, his chest heaving. “Or I paint the walls with your brains.”
Elias stopped. He looked at the rifle leveled at his face. Then, incredibly, he smiled.
He slowly lowered his pistol, dropping it onto the rug.
“Very good, son,” Elias said smoothly, raising his hands. “But you’re too late. Killing me won't stop what’s already in motion.”
I stepped out from the kitchen corridor, my heart pounding against my ribs. “What are you talking about?”
Elias looked at me, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight.
“You think Arthur was the only one with contingency plans, Marina?” Elias sneered. “Arthur was a fool who got caught by the FBI. I don't get caught. I knew the moment the raid happened that I needed to erase all connections. And the biggest connection isn't me. It’s the physical evidence.”
He tapped his temple.
“Arthur kept copies of every transaction, every forged deed, every wire transfer. He kept them in a secure server room in the sub-basement of this building.”
I froze.
“I didn't come up here to kill you, Marina,” Elias said, his smile widening into something truly demonic. “I sent my lawyer up here to stall you. I came up here to ensure you were still in the penthouse when the timer hit zero.”
He checked his gold Rolex watch.
“Ten seconds,” Elias whispered.
“What timer?” Julian yelled, stepping closer with the rifle.
“The C-4 explosives I just placed on the structural columns in the sub-basement,” Elias laughed. “I’m not just erasing the evidence, Marina. I’m dropping the entire high-rise into the foundation.”
My blood ran cold.
May you like
Rachel and Carolina. They were in the elevator. Descending straight into the basement.
“Five seconds,” Elias counted down, his eyes alight with madness.
