Chapter 8 - The Price of Blood
Marcus looked at me, his eyes filled with grim reluctance. He slowly lowered his tactical rifle, dropping it onto the metal floor. I did the same, letting the shotgun clatter against the steel grating near my feet.
Three armed guards immediately descended the stairs, grabbing Marcus and pinning his arms behind his back, forcing him to his knees. Another guard walked up to me, driving a heavy boot into the back of my knee.
Pain flared through my leg—a glorious, sharp pain that proved I was alive. I didn't fall. I absorbed the impact, standing firm, staring up at Arthur with absolute hatred.
"You always were too sentimental, Charles," Arthur sneered, walking down the metal spiral staircase toward us, holding the remote control tightly in his hand. "Just like your father. Old Edward had the same absurd moral compass. When he discovered what I was doing here, he wanted to turn himself in to the federal authorities! He wanted to shut down the project!"
"You killed my father," I stated, the cold truth finally settling into my mind. "It wasn't a heart attack."
"It was a micro-dose of potassium in his evening whiskey," Arthur admitted without a shred of remorse. "He was going to ruin everything! Just as Eleanor tried to ruin everything six months ago when she managed to smuggle that boy out of this facility through the waste disposal chute!"
Arthur walked up to me, looking at my face with a mixture of awe and cold calculation. "I must admit, sending the child to heal your legs was a brilliant move on her part. She knew you were the only one with the financial clearance to breach this perimeter. But it changes nothing. Now I have you, I have the boy outside in your car, and I have the complete genetic blueprint!"
"You don't have the boy," a small voice echoed from the dark doorway of the lab.
Arthur spun around.
Leo stood in the doorway, wrapped in his heavy blanket, his bare feet making no sound as he walked into the bright surgical room. In his right hand, he held the old gold pocket watch, the chain wrapped tightly around his knuckles.
"Leo!" I yelled. "Get out of here!"
"Ah, the miracle child," Arthur smiled, his eyes widening with predatory greed. "The second generation. Your blood must be even more potent than your mother's!"
He signaled two of his guards. "Grab him. Gently. I need his bone marrow intact."
The two mercenaries stepped toward Leo, reaching down with heavy, gloved hands.
Leo didn't run. He didn't cry.
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He raised his bruised right hand, pressing his open palm flat against the heavy steel frame of the nearest main power console.
"Mommy taught me how to put life into things," Leo whispered, his green eyes suddenly flaring with a blinding, terrifying emerald light that illuminated the entire room. "But she also taught me how to take it back."
