My husband had me locked in a windowless subterranean holding room beneath our Chicago estate, claiming I had suffered a severe psychotic break.
In the main server control room, Felix Drake worked with frantic precision. The heavy steel door hissed, then locked with a final, echoing thud. Cross’s second-in-command, Lieutenant Miller, pounded on the reinforced metal.
“Drake! Open this door! Now!” Miller shouted, his voice strained. “The Colonel wants you back on comms!”
Felix ignored him, his fingers flying across a customized interface. His face was pale, beads of sweat tracking paths through his dark hair. The $250,000 payout for this job suddenly felt like blood money.
He toggled a switch, redirecting an audio feed. The estate’s internal PA system crackled to life, echoing throughout the lower levels of the bunker.
Julian Montgomery’s voice, clear and chilling, filled the air. “The pit in Gary is ready. She won’t feel a thing after the third dose.”
Then Evelyn’s, sharp and cold: “Ensure there’s no trace. Not even dental records. We need absolute finality.”
The mercenaries outside the server room froze. The words hung in the air, undeniable, unambiguous. Not a mental patient, not a transfer. A premeditated murder.
Miller stopped pounding. His eyes, wide with sudden realization, met those of the two guards standing next to him. Their faces were etched with a sickening understanding. They weren’t just guarding a lunatic. They were complicit in a high-value federal hit.
“We signed up for security detail,” one of the guards muttered, his hand dropping from his assault rifle. “Not a body disposal crew.”
“They’re framing her for forty-two million,” the other added, his voice low, his gaze still fixed on the server room door. “That’s O’Leary money. We’re dead either way if this comes out.”
Miller stared at the server door, then at his two subordinates. The loyalty that had bound them through countless private contracts began to unravel.
He made a decision. “Let’s go,” he said, turning on his heel. “This isn’t our fight anymore.”
Two guards followed, leaving Captain Cross’s second-in-command abandoning his post, leaving Cross isolated on the lower floor with a rapidly diminishing force. Felix watched their retreating figures on a small internal monitor, his jaw tight. The die was cast.
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