Chapter 4 - NIGHT OF THE WOLVES
The rain had intensified into a downpour by the time Silas's heavy black pickup truck pulled up into the alleyway behind the old clock shop. The streetlights flickered against the wet pavement, casting long, distorted shadows across the brick facades.
Adrian peered through the rain-streaked windshield. Parked at the mouth of the alley was a sleek dark SUV with tinted windows—the signature vehicle of Vanguard Solutions, Marcus's private security force.
"Two men in the vehicle," Silas observed, holding the shotgun low against his leg beneath a heavy oilskin coat. "Engine is idling. They're waiting for someone inside to bring her down."
"Or they're waiting to dispose of her body," Adrian said, his jaw clenching. He looked at Silas. "We take them quiet. If a gun goes off, the whole precinct will be here in three minutes."
Silas reached into the glove box and pulled out two heavy steel wrenches and a pair of leather gloves. "I haven't done a quiet job since 1998, Adrian. But for your father, I'll remember."
They slipped out of the truck silently, keeping to the shadows of the alley walls. Adrian moved with stealth, his childhood spent navigating the dark corners of the harbor coming back to him naturally.
He reached the driver's side of the idling SUV. Through the rain-beaded glass, he could see a muscular man wearing tactical gear and an earpiece, checking his wrist-watch.
Adrian didn't hesitate. He pulled open the unlocked driver's door, grabbed the operative by his tactical vest, and yanked him hard into the pouring rain before the man could draw his sidearm. Silas was right behind him, bringing a heavy iron wrench down across the operative's temple with a dull thud. The man went limp instantly.
The passenger door flew open as the second guard reacted, reaching for his holster. Adrian threw his weight against the passenger door, slamming it back into the guard's leg. The guard grunted in pain, dropping his weapon onto the wet asphalt. Silas stepped around the hood, grabbed the second guard by the throat, and slammed his head against the heavy steel frame of the SUV, knocking him unconscious.
"Quick and dirty," Silas grunted, breathing heavily as he dragged the two unconscious men into the back of the SUV and covered them with a tarp. "Now get upstairs."
Adrian ran up the creaking wooden stairs of the clock shop, his heart hammering against his ribs. He reached the top landing and found the apartment door slightly ajar. The lock had been picked.
He pushed the door open silently. Inside, the apartment had been tossed. Drawers were pulled out, books were scattered across the floor, and old clock components were smashed against the rug.
In the center of the room, Claire Donovan was pinned against a wooden support pillar. Standing over her was a tall, lean man in an expensive wool coat—Dr. Julian Vance.
"Where is it, Claire?" Vance hissed, holding a small silver scalpel against the side of her neck. "I know you were in my office. The security cameras logged your keycard at four thirty AM. Give me the hard drive, or I swear to God I'll cut your carotid artery and leave you to bleed out on this filthy floor."
Claire's face was pale, a thin trickle of blood running down her cheek from a cut near her hairline, but her eyes were filled with defiance. "You're a doctor, Vance. You took an oath."
"I took an oath to protect myself!" Vance yelled, his hands trembling slightly. "Marcus Vale has records of my offshore accounts. If those files go public, I go to federal prison for the rest of my life!"
"He won't have to worry about prison," a cold voice spoke from the doorway.
Vance spun around, his hands shaking violently as he pointed the scalpel toward the dark hallway. "Who's there? Vanguard security is downstairs! If you take one step—"
Adrian stepped out of the shadows into the dim yellow light of the hanging lamp.
Vance's face turned completely grey. The scalpel slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor. He took two staggering steps backward until he slammed into a bookshelf, sending a stack of old magazines cascading around his feet.
"A... Adrian?" Vance choked out, his eyes wide with absolute horror. "No... no, it's impossible... I signed... the toxicology... you were dead..."
"You were wrong, Doctor," Adrian said softly, walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps. "Your dose was too low. Or maybe I just had too much to live for."
"Stay back!" Vance screamed, reaching frantically into his coat pocket for a small pistol.
Before Vance could clear his holster, Adrian closed the distance, grabbed Vance's wrist, and twisted it downward with brutal force. A sharp snap echoed through the room, followed by Vance's agonizing shriek as the gun tumbled from his broken hand.
Adrian grabbed Vance by his collar, slammed him against the brick wall, and held him there, his eyes burning with pure vengeance.
"Please!" Vance sobbed, tears cutting clean lines through the dust on his face. "It was Marcus! Marcus paid me half a million dollars! He said he'd ruin me if I didn't sign the death certificate! He had photos of my family!"
"Where are the records, Vance?" Adrian asked, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. "The real medical records."
"In... in the drive!" Vance gasped, pointing toward Claire. "She took it from my safe! Everything is on there! The poison signatures, Marcus's wire transfers, the fake autopsy report—everything!"
Claire stood up, shaking slightly, and pulled a small black USB drive from her pocket. "I got it before he caught me in the hallway."
Adrian looked back at Vance. "You're going to make a full confession to the District Attorney."
"Marcus will kill me!" Vance wept. "You don't know what he's capable of! He's working with Nikolai Volkov!"
"Marcus won't have time to kill you," Adrian said, letting go of Vance's collar and letting the coward collapse into a heap on the floor. "Because by tomorrow morning, Marcus Vale won't have a company left to hide behind."
Silas walked into the room, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. "The SUV is secured, Adrian. What do we do with the doctor?"
"Lock him in the basement at your yard," Adrian instructed. "Keep him alive. We need him conscious when the federal prosecutors open their investigation."
Claire walked up to Adrian, her breath shaking as she handed him the black USB drive. "Are you alright?"
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Adrian looked down at the tiny piece of plastic—the weapon that would tear down Marcus's empire. He looked at Claire, seeing the blood on her cheek, and felt a profound sense of gratitude.
"I'm alive, Claire," Adrian said softly. "And for the first time in a long time... I know exactly what I have to do."
