« Il y a dix minutes, un véhicule non autorisé s’est garé dans la ruelle derrière la clinique. »
Deux hommes se faisant passer pour des agents de transport familial ont contourné la réception et ont escorté Liam Carter jusqu’à la sortie de secours.
Emma se leva si vite que sa chaise grinça sur le sol en marbre.
« Liam ?! »
Non!
Non, c’est impossible !
Il était censé se reposer chez lui jusqu’à son rendez-vous de l’après-midi !
« Son voisin a appelé une ambulance il y a une heure parce qu’il a fait une crise d’asthme aiguë », a rapidement rapporté Julian.
« Il a été transporté à la clinique. »
But before our team could secure the perimeter, these men intercepted him.”
Emma’s phone began to vibrate violently in her pocket.
With shaking hands, she pulled it out.
An unknown number flashed on the screen.
She pressed answer and put it on speaker.
“Emma Carter?”
Victoria Sterling’s voice purred through the speaker, dripping with sickening triumph.
“Victoria!”
Emma screamed, her voice cracking with terror.
“Where is my brother?!
What did you do to Liam?!”
“He’s right here, darling,” Victoria laughed coldly.
In the background, the faint, wheezing sound of a child gasping for air could be heard, followed by a weak, terrified cry: “Emma!
Emma, help me!”
“Liam!”
Emma sobbed, clutching the phone against her ear.
“Victoria, please!
He can’t breathe without his machine!
Please don’t hurt him!”
“If you want your little brother to survive the hour, you will listen to me very carefully,” Victoria snarled, dropping the polite facade.
“You will come alone to Warehouse 42 at Pier 42 on the south docks.
No cops.
No Moretti bodyguards.
You will sign a sworn confession stating that you assaulted me at the gala, that you framed me, and that you are an extortionist.
If I see a single patrol car, I will throw his inhaler into Lake Michigan and leave him in the cold.”
The line went dead.
Emma stumbled backward, her vision blurring with panic.
“I have to go.
I have to save him—”
Before she could take another step, a strong, warm hand gripped her shoulder firmly.
Chapter 11 – The Confrontation at Pier 42
Rain had begun to lash against the industrial expanse of Pier 42, turning the gravel paths into slick, black mud.
Inside Warehouse 42, the air was damp and frigid.
Rusted shipping containers were stacked high into the shadowy rafters, while the sound of crashing waves echoed from just outside the corrugated steel walls.
In the center of the concrete floor, Liam sat tied to a wooden chair, his lips turning a faint shade of blue as he struggled for air.
Mack stood beside him, tossing a plastic medical inhaler up and down in his palm with a cruel grin.
Victoria Sterling paced impatiently near the open bay doors, checking her diamond wristwatch.
“Where is she?
She should have been here five minutes ago!”
“Relax, princess,” Mack chuckled.
“She’ll come.
A girl like that would crawl through broken glass for her kid brother.”
Suddenly, the deafening sound of multiple high-powered engines shattered the silence.
Before Victoria could react, the heavy warehouse doors were blown off their hinges with a concussive blast of shattering metal.
Blinding high-beam lights illuminated the darkness, accompanied by the synchronized click of heavily armed security forces flooding every entrance.
“What the hell?!”
Mack shouted, pulling a handgun from his waistband.
“Drop your weapon!”
Julian’s voice boomed through a megaphone as laser sights instantly painted red dots across Mack’s chest and forehead.
Mack froze, his eyes widening in terror as he slowly raised his hands, dropping the gun onto the concrete.
Sous l’éclat aveuglant des projecteurs, Vincent Moretti entra dans l’entrepôt, protégeant Emma Carter à ses côtés.
Le trench-coat de Vincent flottait au vent, son visage sculpté dans la pierre.
« Liam ! »
Emma poussa un cri et se mit à courir.
Deux officiers tactiques la flanquèrent, coupant instantanément les cordes qui entouraient Liam tandis qu’Emma rattrapait son frère dans ses bras, pressant son inhalateur de secours contre sa bouche de ses mains tremblantes.
Liam prit une grande inspiration désespérée, sanglotant contre son épaule.
Victoria se réfugia dans l’ombre d’un conteneur, tremblante de tous ses membres.
« Vincent… »
Vincent, attends !
Vous ne comprenez pas !
Mack m’a forcé à faire ça !
C’était son idée !
Vincent s’avança d’un pas assuré vers elle, ses pas lourds résonnant comme une marche funèbre.
« Tu as franchi la ligne de non-retour, Victoria. »
« Ah bon, Vincent ? »
Une voix froide et inconnue résonna dans l’ombre profonde des conteneurs rouillés.
Vincent s’arrêta net.
Ses yeux se plissèrent brusquement.
Surgissant de l’obscurité des conteneurs empilés, un homme grand et impeccablement vêtu apparut dans la pénombre.
