Chapter 6 - THE SILVER ROSARY
Panic is a physical thing.
It hit the armored SUV like a shockwave as we tore through the flooded streets of Chicago toward the downtown high-rise.
Anthony was gripping the door handle so hard his knuckles were white. His wife, Elena, was seven months pregnant.
“Call her,” Dominic barked to the security chief.
“I’m trying, boss. It’s going straight to voicemail. The penthouse landline is dead too.”
“Kane jammed the signal,” Anthony said, his voice tight with terror. “He’s going to kill her. He’s going to take my child because we took his life.”
“Breathe, Anthony,” I said firmly, shifting into nurse mode. His heart condition couldn't handle this level of adrenaline. “Panic won’t save her. Focus.”
We arrived at the high-rise.
The lobby was completely dark. The security guards at the front desk were unconscious, slumped over their monitors.
“Paralytic dart,” the security chief said, checking their pulses. “They’re alive, but out cold.”
We ran to the private executive elevator.
Dominic punched in the numbers from the back of the child's drawing.
34 - 12 - 88 - 09.
The doors slid open.
We rode up to the 60th floor in agonizing silence.
The doors chimed.
We stepped into the massive, glass-walled penthouse.
The storm raged outside, lightning illuminating the dark, expensive furniture.
“Elena!” Anthony screamed.
No answer.
We cleared the living room. The kitchen.
Nothing.
Then, we reached the master bedroom.
The door was ajar.
Dominic pushed it open, his gun raised.
The bed was empty. The sheets were tangled.
But sitting perfectly in the center of the mattress was an object.
A silver rosary.
Dominic slowly walked over and picked it up.
His hand trembled.
“This is my mother’s,” Dominic whispered. “She never took it off.”
I looked at the floor near the nightstand.
There were scuff marks on the hardwood. Signs of a struggle.
Then, a soft, muffled sound came from the master bathroom.
Anthony sprinted forward and kicked the bathroom door open.
Elena was there.
She was sitting on the floor of the massive glass shower, her hands bound with zip ties, weeping silently.
Anthony dropped to his knees, pulling a knife from his pocket to cut the plastic ties.
“Elena, Elena, I’ve got you,” he sobbed, pulling her into his arms.
“He was here,” Elena cried, burying her face in Anthony’s neck. “A man with terrible burn scars on his face. He brought an old woman with him.”
Dominic stepped into the bathroom.
“My mother. Was she alive?”
Elena nodded, trembling.
“She looked so weak. He put her in the wheelchair and tied her to it.”
“Where did they go?” Dominic demanded.
“He told me to give you a message,” Elena whispered, looking terrified at Dominic.
“What message?”
“He said… ‘Tell Dominic the cycle ends where the fire started.’”
Dominic lowered his gun.
The blood completely drained from his face.
“The clinic,” I said. “The abandoned clinic on Addison.”
“But we already checked it,” the security chief argued.
Dominic shook his head.
“We checked the ground floor.”
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He looked at me, his eyes dark with a fear I hadn't seen in him before.
“Kane didn’t build his secret lab on the ground floor. He built it in the basement. And the only way down is through the old incinerator chute.”
