Chapter 8 - Elena
Claire stopped breathing.
The photograph shook in Adrian’s hand because Claire had grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
Elena Bennett sat tied to a chair beside Samuel Moretti.
Her silver hair was longer than Claire remembered.
Her face thinner.
Older.
But unmistakable.
A scar near her left eyebrow.
The same slight bend in her nose.
The same green scarf Claire had once given her for Christmas.
“No.”
Claire backed away.
“My mother is dead.”
Victor’s voice remained on speaker.
“You attended a funeral.”
“I saw the coffin.”
“Closed.”
“You sent me her things.”
“Yes.”
Claire’s expression changed from disbelief to horror.
“You.”
“I arranged the accident.”
She covered her mouth.
“But Elena survived.”
Adrian’s voice became ice.
“And you kept her.”
Victor chuckled softly.
“Kept is such an ugly word.”
“For twelve years?”
“She was useful.”
Claire’s knees gave out.
Adrian caught her before she hit the floor.
She shoved away immediately.
Not because she rejected him.
Because grief had suddenly turned into rage and needed somewhere to go.
“You let me think she was dead.”
Victor answered, “She preferred it.”
Claire froze.
“What?”
“She believed you and Lily would be safer if I stopped searching through her.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Ask her at noon.”
The line went dead.
Claire stood in the center of Anthony Moretti’s study.
For twelve years she had carried memories of a funeral she now realized had been staged.
For twelve years she had hated herself for not answering her mother’s final phone call because she was working a double shift.
For twelve years she had kept one voicemail:
Call me when you can, sweetheart. Nothing urgent. I love you.
Nothing urgent.
Claire had listened to it on birthdays.
Christmas.
The night Lily was born.
Now her mother was alive.
Somewhere.
With Samuel.
Adrian handed Claire a glass of water.
She stared at it.
Then almost laughed.
“Bad timing.”
Adrian looked at the glass.
Given how the night began, he understood.
He set it down untouched.
Claire pressed both hands against her face.
“I don’t know whether to scream or throw something.”
“Both are available.”
She looked at him.
“What would you do?”
“I would find Victor.”
“And then?”
Adrian did not answer.
He did not need to.
Claire closed her eyes.
“No.”
“No?”
“You’re not killing him before we find my parents.”
Adrian’s eyebrows lifted.
“I hadn’t said anything.”
“You have a face.”
“I have several.”
“This one is murder.”
Daniel turned away.
Marco coughed.
Even Evelyn looked faintly amused.
Claire pointed at Adrian.
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
“Adrian.”
He stepped closer.
“We retrieve Samuel and Elena first.”
“And Victor?”
“We’ll discuss philosophy later.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
By 6:10 a.m., dawn had begun turning the windows gray.
The estate remained under lockdown.
Michael regained consciousness.
He had a concussion but remembered his attacker.
Not Victor.
A woman.
Approximately five-foot-six.
Blond hair.
Housekeeping uniform.
Evelyn reviewed the staff list.
One temporary employee was unaccounted for.
Rachel Moore.
Hired three weeks earlier through an outside agency.
Her identification was false.
Her address led to an empty warehouse.
Another Victor operative.
Adrian ordered every outside contractor’s identity reverified from scratch.
Then he focused on the noon deadline.
“Victor expects us to bring the keys.”
Claire sat at the study table.
“He knows we found both.”
“Yes.”
“He also knows we need whatever they open.”
“Yes.”
“Which means he thinks he controls the location.”
Adrian nodded.
“That’s useful.”
“How?”
“Men behave differently when they think they’re winning.”
Daniel entered.
“We traced the photo metadata.”
Victor rarely made mistakes.
This time, desperation had created one.
“Where?”
“Image data was stripped, but the compression signature came from a security network we’ve seen before.”
Adrian looked at him.
“Owned by?”
“Kane Industrial Properties.”
Claire leaned forward.
“Which property?”
“Could be any of eleven.”
Marco entered behind Daniel.
“Ten.”
Everyone turned.
He placed a map on the table.
“One property is currently active overnight despite being listed as vacant.”
“Where?”
“South Chicago. Old pharmaceutical distribution center near the river.”
Adrian stared.
Pharmaceutical.
Same network that once supplied Sofia’s treatment.
Victor had a taste for family history.
Claire stood.
“We go there.”
“No.”
She glared.
“Yes.”
“You’re not trained.”
“I don’t care.”
“He wants you.”
“He wants the keys.”
“And your mother.”
“She’s my mother.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“That is exactly why you do not go through the first door.”
Claire’s eyes filled with fury.
“I have spent three years running because men kept telling me what was safest for me and my daughter.”
“That isn’t what I’m doing.”
“It sounds exactly like it.”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“I am telling you what gives us the best chance of getting Elena and Samuel out alive.”
Claire fell silent.
Adrian continued.
“If you walk in first, Victor controls you before we learn the layout.”
“And if I stay behind?”
“You enter when I know where every gun is.”
She stared at him.
“That’s your compromise?”
“It’s generous by my standards.”
Claire almost laughed despite everything.
Then she nodded.
“Fine.”
Adrian looked at Daniel.
“Build me the property.”
Satellite images.
Old architectural plans.
Utility maps.
Security contract records.
Within forty minutes, Adrian’s study walls were covered with information.
The Kane distribution center was enormous.
Five stories.
Two underground storage levels.
Private loading docks on the river.
Active power but officially no employees.
The perfect place to hold people.
The perfect place to disappear them.
Marco pointed toward the basement.
“Cold storage rooms.”
Michael, seated with an ice pack against his head, looked at the plans.
“Medical refrigeration?”
“Yes.”
“Could be where he stores pharmaceuticals.”
Adrian remembered Anthony’s tape.
Antidote.
A thought surfaced.
“What poison was used on Sofia?”
Michael looked at him.
“No idea.”
“Could something like that still exist?”
“Depends what it was.”
“Could Victor use the same chemical network today?”
“Possibly.”
Claire stared at Adrian.
“Why does that matter?”
He looked at her.
“Because Victor drugged you rather than simply taking you.”
Her face changed.
“He wanted me weak.”
“Or he wanted to test dosage.”
Michael sat straighter.
Adrian continued.
“The same method his father used against Sofia.”
Michael’s expression darkened.
“Repeated low exposure.”
Claire whispered, “You think he was experimenting on me?”
“I think Victor does nothing without a second purpose.”
Michael asked, “Why test on Claire?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Then Evelyn did.
“Because of Elena.”
Everyone turned.
“What about her?”
Evelyn looked sick.
“If Elena has been imprisoned twelve years, Victor needs her alive.”
Claire’s hands tightened.
“And?”
“Maybe she isn’t healthy.”
Adrian understood.
“He needs medication.”
“Or an antidote,” Michael said.
Claire went pale.
“He poisoned my mother too.”
Adrian looked at the property plans.
The facility might not just be a prison.
It might be a laboratory.
At 8:30 a.m., Daniel intercepted a message sent to one of Victor’s shell-company servers.
One sentence.
TEST SUBJECT B RESPONDED AT 3.7 MG. PREPARE SUBJECT A FOR FINAL DOSE.
Claire stared at the screen.
“Subject B.”
Michael looked at her.
“That could be you.”
“And Subject A?”
No one wanted to say it.
Elena.
Adrian stood.
“We’re not waiting until noon.”
Daniel nodded.
“Teams?”
“Four.”
They moved.
Claire remained at a secure command location three blocks away with Michael and a small trusted team.
Lily stayed at the estate.
Leaving her again felt like ripping Claire in half.
But this time Lily was awake, surrounded by guards, and wearing Adrian’s oversized Chicago Cubs cap because she had found it on a shelf.
Before Claire left, Lily had looked at Adrian.
“You bring my grandma?”
Claire froze.
She had told Lily only that Grandma might be alive.
Adrian crouched.
“Yes.”
Lily studied him.
“You promised Mommy would wake up.”
“I remember.”
“And she did.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re good at promises?”
Adrian glanced at Claire.
“Apparently I’m developing a dangerous reputation.”
Lily held out her pinky.
Adrian stared at it.
Then linked his much larger finger around hers.
“Bring Grandma.”
“I will.”
Claire watched him.
Something changed in her expression.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Something older.
Trust.
At 9:17 a.m., Adrian’s teams entered Kane Industrial through four points.
No alarms.
No resistance.
That bothered him.
They cleared the first floor.
Empty.
Second.
Empty.
Third.
Offices stripped bare.
Fourth.
Nothing.
Marco looked at Adrian.
“Too easy.”
“Yes.”
They reached the fifth floor.
One room was lit.
Inside sat a television.
The screen turned on automatically.
Victor appeared.
Live.
“Good morning.”
Adrian looked directly into the camera.
“You’re not here.”
“No.”
“Neither are they.”
Victor smiled.
“Correct.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
Victor continued.
“You found the building I wanted you to find.”
Daniel’s voice came through Adrian’s earpiece.
“We have a problem.”
Adrian didn’t look away from the screen.
“Talk.”
“The basement is wired.”
“For what?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Fire.”
Victor smiled wider.
“Your sister suffered in one of my father’s facilities, Adrian.”
Adrian’s blood went cold.
Victor pressed something off-screen.
“Consider this a memorial.”
Below them, alarms began screaming.
Adrian turned.
Smoke poured beneath the stairwell door.
Victor’s voice followed him through the speakers.
“You have eight minutes before the chemical storage ignites.”
Marco shouted, “Roof!”
They ran upward.
Then Adrian stopped.
A sound.
Faint.
Behind the wall.
Someone knocking.
Three knocks.
Then three more.
Adrian stared at the concrete.
“Marco.”
They found a hidden door.
Inside was a narrow medical room.
A woman lay unconscious on a gurney.
Silver hair.
Green scarf.
Claire’s mother.
Elena.
Adrian rushed toward her.
She opened her eyes.
Saw him.
And whispered one name.
May you like
“Sofia.”
Then the building beneath them exploded.
