Chapter 7 - THE COUNTDOWN
The blinking red light bathed Brett’s terrified face in a demonic glow.
00:41:22.
Forty-one minutes until Brett was erased from the earth, along with anyone standing near him.
Marcus didn’t flinch. He kept his pistol leveled at Brett's head, but he glanced at Salvatore. "Boss. We have to clear the building."
I couldn't move. The explosive strapped to Brett’s chest looked crude but lethal—blocks of clay-like substance wired to a digital timer.
"My daughter," Brett sobbed, his forehead resting on the floorboards of my destroyed apartment. "She’s at her prep school. Vance's men are watching the gates. Please, Marquetti. I’ll die. Just call your people and get her out."
Salvatore stared down at the broken man on the floor.
The man who had humiliated me for four years. The man who had aided in the kidnapping of my brother. The man who had helped imprison Salvatore’s sister.
For a terrifying second, I thought Salvatore was going to turn his back and let the timer run out.
Instead, Salvatore pulled out his phone.
"Alpha team to St. Jude’s Academy," Salvatore commanded into the receiver, his voice absolute ice. "Extract a female student, Lily Brett. Lethal force authorized against anyone in the vicinity wearing a Vance security pin. Bring her to the safe house."
He hung up and looked at Marcus. "Call the bomb squad. Tell them it's a priority one tied to a federal asset. Have them meet us in the alley behind the building."
"We can't leave him here," Marcus argued softly. "If it detonates—"
"I know," Salvatore interrupted. He looked at Brett. "Get up. You're walking down to the alley. Slowly."
Brett scrambled to his feet, tears streaming down his face, clutching his shirt closed over the bomb.
Salvatore turned to me. The coldness vanished, replaced by an urgent, fierce focus.
"Tessa," he said, gripping my shoulders. "We have thirty-nine minutes to get to that facility before Vance moves them. We are leaving now."
"But the bomb—" I started, my voice trembling.
"Marcus will handle it," Salvatore said, already pulling me toward the door. "Your brother is waiting."
The ride to the suburban facility was a nightmare of speed and silence.
Salvatore drove his own armored SUV, the engine roaring as we tore down the darkened highway. Rain lashed against the windshield, distorting the headlights of the oncoming traffic.
I sat in the passenger seat, gripping the steel master key Brett had given us until my knuckles were white.
"My mother never told me," I whispered into the dark of the cabin. "She never said a word about being a Vance. We ate boxed mac and cheese for Thanksgiving. We wore thrift store coats. How could she just walk away from all of it?"
"Because wealth without morality is a cage," Salvatore said softly, his eyes fixed on the road. "Your grandfather was a monster. Your mother chose love over a blood money inheritance. She protected you."
"She didn't protect me," I choked out, a tear sliding down my cheek. "She left me completely blind. If I had known, I would have watched out for Leo. I wouldn't have let Vance—"
"You couldn't have known," Salvatore cut in, his voice firm. "Do not take Vance's sins onto your own shoulders, Tessa. That guilt will drown you."
He reached across the center console and placed his large, warm hand over mine.
"We are going to get him back," he promised.
Ten minutes later, the massive iron gates of the Blackwood Psychiatric Facility loomed out of the darkness. It was set deep in a wooded area, surrounded by high brick walls topped with razor wire.
It looked completely abandoned. The windows were dark.
"They're moving covertly," Salvatore said, cutting the headlights. He pulled the SUV off the main road, parking in a dense thicket of trees near the rear perimeter.
He reached into the backseat and pulled out two heavy, matte-black tactical vests. He handed one to me.
"Put it on," he ordered.
"I don't know how to shoot a gun," I said, my hands shaking as I strapped the heavy Kevlar over my chest.
"You aren't shooting anyone," Salvatore replied, pulling a sleek, suppressed handgun from a holster and checking the chamber. "You stay behind me. You unlock the doors. You get Leo. I will handle anyone who tries to stop us."
We slipped through the rain-soaked woods, reaching a heavy steel service door at the back of the facility.
I slid the master key into the lock. It turned with a heavy, satisfying click.
Salvatore pushed the door open.
The corridor inside was bathed in dim, flickering fluorescent light. It smelled of bleach and old copper.
We moved silently down the hallway.
Suddenly, a voice echoed from a room up ahead.
"Sedate her again. The jet leaves in twenty minutes. If she wakes up during transport, Vance will dock our pay."
Salvatore held up a hand, stopping me. He flattened his back against the wall, his gun raised.
I peaked around his shoulder.
Through the glass window of a heavy observation door, I saw them.
Two men in white coats, standing over a hospital bed.
And strapped to the bed, thrashing weakly, was a woman with long, dark hair.
Elena.
But my eyes instantly darted to the corner of the room.
There, sitting on the floor, his knees pulled to his chest, trembling violently, was a small boy in a yellow raincoat.
"Leo!" I gasped, clapping my hand over my mouth before the sound could escape.
But I was too late.
One of the men in white coats turned, his hand dropping to a pistol holstered at his hip.
Salvatore didn't hesitate. He stepped out from cover, raising his weapon.
Before he could pull the trigger, a voice crackled over the facility intercom, echoing through the sterile hallway.
"Salvatore Marquetti," Richard Vance’s smooth, arrogant voice rang out from the speakers above us. "I am so glad you could join the family reunion."
May you like
Steel blast doors suddenly slammed down at the end of the corridor, sealing us in.
"Drop the gun, Salvatore," Vance’s voice purred. "Or I press a button, and the oxygen in that wing is vented into the atmosphere. You have ten seconds to decide if my niece gets to take another breath."
