Chapter 32 - The Abandoned Warehouse
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The Brooklyn warehouse was a cavernous, rotting monument to the old syndicate days. Rain leaked through the rusted tin roof, pooling on the cracked concrete floor. The air smelled heavily of salt water, mildew, and decaying wood.
I stood in the absolute center of the vast, empty room, illuminated only by the headlights of my SUV parked just outside the loading bay doors.
I wore a thick trench coat, my hands shoved deep into the pockets, clutching the manila envelope containing the forged trust documents. My heart hammered relentlessly against my ribs, but I forced my posture to remain tall and defiant.
High above me, hidden in the labyrinth of steel catwalks and shadows, I knew Luca was watching through the scope of a high-powered rifle.
At exactly 11:45 PM, the sound of a roaring engine broke the silence.
A sleek, black Mercedes sedan pulled slowly into the warehouse, its tires crunching loudly over broken glass. The car stopped twenty feet away from me. The headlights flicked off, plunging us into dim, eerie moonlight filtering through the broken skylights.
The driver’s door opened, and Derek stepped out.
He was wearing a dark suit, looking entirely out of place in the rotting industrial building. He smiled, that familiar, cruel smirk that used to make me cower in fear.
“Emma,” Derek called out, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. “You’re looking remarkably well for a woman whose life is crumbling around her.”
“Cut the performance, Derek,” I shouted back, keeping my voice steady. “I have the documents. Where is Vivian?”
“Vivian is currently enjoying a very expensive bottle of wine in a location you will never find,” Derek laughed, slowly walking toward me. “She sent me to handle the errands. Throw the envelope on the ground and kick it over.”
“Not until I know you haven't wired my mother’s house,” I demanded, holding the envelope tightly against my chest.
Derek stopped ten feet away, pulling a small, black detonator remote from his pocket and waving it tauntingly in the air.
“The house is wired, Emma,” Derek sneered. “But I’m a man of my word. Give me the billions, and I won't press the button.”
He took another step forward.
“Stop right there,” I warned.
“Or what?” Derek mocked, laughing loudly. “You’re going to hit me with your purse?”
May you like
He took one more arrogant step.
A single, suppressed gunshot echoed sharply through the massive warehouse.
