Chapter 4 - The Dockside Tomb
The rain had turned the city docks into a slick, blackened graveyard of rusted shipping containers and abandoned warehouses.
A single unmarked black van pulled up to the rear entrance of Warehouse 42. Victoria, wearing a dark rain jacket, peered through the rain-streaked window. Beside her, Julian checked the action on a small legally registered sidearm.
"There are four guards at the main gate," Julian reported, lowered binoculars in hand. "All private contractors from Vance Security. They’re armed."
"Lily knows the air intake route," Victoria said, looking back at her niece, who was sitting in the middle seat, clutching a small brass wrench Julian had given her. "She’s going to slip through the ventilation access and unlock the side door from the inside."
"I can do it, Aunt Victoria," Lily said, her voice surprisingly steady despite her small frame. "I used to crawl through the vents to bring Mom stolen bread from the staff kitchen."
Victoria kissed the child’s forehead. "Be safe, my sweet girl. As soon as that door clicks, we move."
Lily slipped out of the van like a shadow, disappearing into the dark rain toward the rear wall of the warehouse.
Ten agonizing minutes passed. Every second felt like an eternity. Victoria watched the digital clock on the van dashboard tick toward 3:00 AM. If Adrian’s men realized the terrace video was trending online, they might receive orders to liquidate the site and eliminate all evidence—including Anna.
Click.
The heavy iron side door of the warehouse opened three inches. Lily’s small hand waved from the shadow.
"Move!" Victoria whispered.
Victoria and Julian darted across the open asphalt, slipping through the door into the cavernous, freezing interior of the warehouse.
The smell of mold, salt water, and chemical antiseptic was overwhelming. Rows of empty wooden crates stretched into the gloom. In the far corner, behind a makeshift wall of blue plastic tarps, a single light bulb hummed.
Victoria crept forward, her heart thumping against her ribs like a sledgehammer. She pushed past the blue tarp.
There, resting on a rusted iron gurney beneath a threadbare blanket, lay Anna.
Her eyes were closed, her skin translucent, her breathing shallow and raspy. IV lines snaked from a pole into her frail arm, leading to a bag of clear liquid marked with no pharmaceutical label.
"Anna..." Victoria wept, dropping to her knees beside the bed, grabbing her sister’s cold, skeletal hand. "Anna, please... it’s me. It’s Victoria."
Anna’s eyelids fluttered open slowly. Her pale blue eyes, once so bright and full of music, were milky and unfocused. But as she looked at Victoria’s face, a tiny spark of recognition ignited in her gaze.
"Tori...?" Anna’s voice was a dry, broken rattle. "You... you found her?"
"She found me, Anna," Victoria sobbed, pressing Anna’s hand against her cheek. "Lily played the song. She played Papa’s song on the terrace."
A faint, beautiful smile touched Anna’s cracked lips. "I told her... I told her you would remember."
"We’re getting you out of here," Julian said, stepping forward with bolt cutters to sever the chains locking the gurney to the floor. "Right now."
"I wouldn't recommend touching those chains," a cold, familiar voice echoed from the darkness behind them.
May you like
Victoria turned around.
Adrian Vale stood in the doorway of the tarp enclosure, flanked by four armed guards holding tactical submachine guns. In his right hand, he held a heavy steel revolver, his face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.
