Chapter 8 - The Crimson Rain
The gunfight in the dark of the grain elevator was chaotic and terrifying. Sienna threw herself to the floor, still tied to the chair, as bullets chipped the concrete columns, sending clouds of choking dust into the air.
From the darkness of the machinery room, a series of sickening, wet thuds echoed, followed by a sharp, metallic snap. One of the guard's rifles went silent.
The second guard backed away toward the exit, his flashlight beam shaking violently as he scanned the shadows. "Where is he? Where is he?"
A massive hand reached out from behind a concrete pillar, wrapping around the guard's face, instantly stifling his screams. Dawson dragged the man back into the darkness. There was a brief, violent struggle, the sound of tearing fabric and breaking bones, and then silence returned to the room.
Victor was left alone. He scrambled toward the laptop, his hands shaking as he tried to grab the flash drive, but his path was blocked.
Dawson stepped out of the shadows. His gray sweater was torn and stained with blood—some of it his own, but most of it belonging to the men he had just neutralized. His face was a mask of cold, unadulterated fury.
"You shouldn't have touched her, Victor," Dawson said, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building.
Victor backed away, his hands raised in surrender. "Dawson, wait... we can make a deal. The twelve million... we can split it. You can have your clean life. Just let me go."
"I don't want the money," Dawson said, stepping closer. "And I don't want a deal."
"Dawson, please!" Victor whimpered, his back hitting the rusted safety railing of the loading bay ledge. Behind him, the thirty-foot drop to the dark, churning waters of the Chicago River loomed like an open grave.
Dawson grabbed Victor by the lapels of his expensive suit, lifting him off his feet with effortless, terrifying strength. He held him over the edge of the drop, the wind from the river whipping through their hair.
"Dawson!" Sienna’s voice cut through the sound of the rain. She had managed to free herself completely from the ropes and was standing near the center of the room, her wrists bleeding, her face pale but resolute. "Don't do it. If you drop him, you go back to the grave. You become the monster again. For me, Dawson. Stay on this side of the line."
Dawson looked at Victor, whose eyes were wide with the absolute terror of impending death. Then, he looked back at Sienna. He saw the thin, bleeding scars on her wrists—scars she had reopened just to save them both.
May you like
He let out a long, shuddering sigh.
With a grunt of disgust, Dawson pulled Victor back over the railing and threw him hard onto the concrete floor. "The police are already on their way, Victor. I hope you like windowless cells."
