Chapter 7 - THE SCARRED MAN
I stared at the crude handwriting on the back of the photograph, my lungs burning as if the oxygen had suddenly been sucked from the room. Elena hadn't died of a heart attack in the library. She had been held hostage inside this very walls by Anthony.
Mia tugged at my scrub pants. "Claire? Are the bad men gone?"
"I don't know, sweetie," I whispered, hurriedly stuffing the photograph into my pocket. I looked at the heavy steel door Marcus had shut. He had locked us in here for our protection, but if Anthony returned, we were sitting ducks in a steel coffin.
I began desperately searching the walls of the panic room. "There has to be another way out. A bunker like this always has a secondary egress."
I moved the green wool coat aside and dropped to my knees, running my hands along the cold concrete floor. Underneath a thin layer of dust and a rubber mat, my fingers caught on a recessed metal handle.
"Bingo," I breathed. I pulled with all my strength. The heavy metal grate lifted, revealing a narrow ventilation shaft that dropped down into darkness before leveling out. A draft of cold, fresh air blew upward.
"Mia, listen to me," I said, crouching down to her eye level. "We're going to slide down this tunnel. It's like a slide at the playground. I'll go first, and you hold onto my shoulders. Okay?"
She nodded bravely, clutching her silver rosary.
We slipped into the shaft. It was tight, smelling of damp earth and old masonry. We crawled in agonizing slowness for what felt like hours, though it was likely only minutes. Finally, the shaft ended at a rusted iron grate. I kicked it open, and we spilled out onto the damp grass of the estate's sprawling back gardens, completely hidden from the main driveway.
I needed to find Dominic. I needed to find the fake cops.
I pulled out my phone to call Marcus, but a heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder, spinning me around.
I gasped, pulling Mia behind me.
Standing in the shadows of the hedges was a tall man. The moonlight caught the jagged, angry red scar running down the side of his face. The man from the photograph. The man from Mia's drawing.
"Scream, and I put a bullet in you," the scarred man growled, raising a silenced pistol.
"Don't hurt her!" I pleaded. "She's just a child!"
"I know exactly who she is," he sneered. "She's my insurance policy."
Answer one: Elena was kidnapped and tortured by this man four years ago. Open one: why was he here now? Open two: who was he really working for?
Before he could grab my arm, a gunshot shattered the silence of the garden. The scarred man grunted, dropping his weapon as a bullet tore through his shoulder. He collapsed to the grass.
Marcus stepped out from the trees, his gun smoking. He looked at the bleeding man on the ground, his face twisted in a mixture of rage and profound grief.
"Marcus!" I cried in relief. "You shot him!"
"I had to," Marcus said, his voice breaking. He didn't lower his gun. He kept it aimed at the man on the ground. "He's my brother."
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Reversal: The scarred man—Anthony's chief enforcer, the man who had tortured Elena and hidden Mia—was Marcus's own flesh and blood. Marcus had been playing both sides to protect his family.
"I'm sorry, Miss Bennett," Marcus whispered, slowly turning his weapon away from his brother, and aiming it directly at my chest. "But family comes first."
