Chapter 8 - THE WAREHOUSE OF SECRETS
We left Arthur at the cabin.
Sebastian drove the SUV like a man possessed.
The rain had turned into a torrential downpour, washing out the roads.
Anna sat in the back, holding Leo tightly.
I sat in the passenger seat, my knuckles white as I gripped the door handle.
“Marcus,” Sebastian muttered, his jaw clenched. “He’s been at my right hand for twenty years. He taught me how to shoot. He bought me my first car.”
“He’s the one who wanted my family dead,” Anna whispered.
“He wanted the empire,” Sebastian corrected. “With my father dead and you gone, I was the only heir. He thought he could control me. But when I grew too powerful, he couldn't get rid of me without causing a civil war.”
We pulled up to the abandoned shipyard on the edge of the docks.
The warehouse was massive, rusted, and silent.
Sebastian turned off the headlights.
He reached under his seat and pulled out a tactical shotgun.
He handed me a small handgun.
“Do you know how to use this, Olivia?”
“I grew up in Detroit,” I said, checking the safety. “Yes.”
He nodded.
“Stay with Anna. Keep the boy quiet. Don’t come in until I say the word.”
Sebastian stepped out into the rain and disappeared into the shadows of the warehouse.
We waited in the car for ten agonizing minutes.
Leo was fast asleep, his breathing finally normal.
Anna reached forward and grabbed my shoulder.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For staying.”
“I’m just a maid,” I said softly.
“No,” Anna replied. “You’re the only person who actually sees what’s happening.”
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out from inside the warehouse.
It echoed over the sound of the rain.
Anna gasped.
I didn’t think. I opened the car door.
“Lock it behind me,” I ordered.
I ran toward the side entrance of the warehouse, slipping in the mud.
I pushed the heavy metal door open an inch and peered inside.
The interior was dimly lit by a few hanging halogen bulbs.
In the center of the concrete floor, Camille was tied to a chair, sobbing uncontrollably.
Marcus Thorne, a burly, gray-haired man in a leather jacket, stood over her with a smoking pistol.
He hadn’t shot her.
He had shot the floor next to her foot to terrify her.
Sebastian stepped out from behind a stack of shipping crates, his shotgun raised.
“Drop the gun, Marcus.”
Marcus turned around.
He didn’t look surprised. He smiled.
“Sebastian. My boy. You made it.”
“Drop it.”
Marcus sighed and tossed the pistol onto the concrete.
“I was just having a chat with your lovely fiancée. She was telling me the most fascinating story about a hospital in Seattle.”
Sebastian didn’t lower his weapon.
“You burned the orphanage, Marcus.”
Marcus shrugged.
“I had to. Your father was weak. He was letting the Italians run over us. I needed control. Margaret ruined everything by hiding the girl. I couldn't let a legitimate heir survive to challenge me later.”
Camille looked up, weeping.
“Sebastian, please! He was going to kill me! He found out I knew about Elizabeth and he realized I could expose him!”
Marcus laughed.
“You’re pathetic, Camille. You thought you could play the game.”
He looked back at Sebastian.
“So, what now, kid? You gonna shoot your old Uncle Marcus?”
“Yes,” Sebastian said coldly.
But as he pulled the trigger, a voice echoed from the high catwalk above.
“I wouldn’t do that, Sebastian.”
I looked up.
A sniper was lying prone on the metal railing, a laser sight aimed directly at Sebastian’s forehead.
Marcus grinned.
“You think I came here without backup? Put the shotgun down, kid. Or my man paints the floor with your brains.”
Sebastian hesitated.
The red dot rested right between his eyes.
He slowly lowered the shotgun.
Marcus walked forward, pulling a knife from his belt.
“Such a shame. But at least you’ll get to see your sister in the afterlife.”
I raised my handgun.
My hands were shaking.
May you like
I aimed at the catwalk.
I had one shot.
