Chapter 143 A Predator in Sight
"Marcus," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "We move. Now."
"The tactical van is in the lower bay," Marcus replied. He moved with a clinical precision that I found both reassuring and terrifying. "We use the service stairs. I’ve jammed the sensors for the next three minutes."
Tristan stepped toward me, his hand reaching out. "Minerva, let me carry him. You can’t run in those heels."
"I survived Port Sterling in worse," I snapped, though I knew he was right. I handed Elias to him.
Tristan took the boy with a gentleness that seemed at odds with the hardness of his face. Elias stiffened for a second, looking at the "serious man" who had watched him through the glass. He didn't cry. He simply buried his face in Tristan’s neck and held on tight.
We moved through the stairwell in silence. The tactical van sat idling, its black paint swallowed by the shadows.
"Get in," Marcus commanded.
I slid into the backseat. Tristan followed, still holding Elias. Marcus took the driver’s seat, and we pulled out into the night.
"We are heading to the Aegis facility," I told Tristan. "It has its own generators and a private satellite link. Thomas can't cut the power there."
"He doesn't need to cut the power if he has the keys to the front door," Tristan said. He looked down at Elias, who was finally falling asleep in his arms. "Thomas has been buying Johnston security contractors for years. We can't trust the uniforms, Minerva."
"I trust Marcus," I said. "And I trust Diego."
"That’s not enough anymore."
As the gates opened, I saw a black sedan parked near the loading dock.
My blood ran cold.
"Stop the car," I said.
Marcus slowed the van to a crawl. The headlights swept across the sedan. A man stepped out. He wasn't wearing tactical gear. He wore a rumpled suit and held a leather briefcase.
It was Benedict Holloway.
"What is he doing here?" Tristan asked, his hand tightening around Elias.
"He’s an Opportunist," I said. "He wants to be on the winning side."
I stepped out of the van before Marcus could stop me.
"Minerva," he said. He looked toward the van, his eyes landing on Tristan. "I thought you should know. The high court didn't just stay the custody order. They issued a secondary warrant for an emergency welfare check. Someone filed a report claiming the child is being held against his will."
"That’s a lie," I said.
"Of course it is," Benedict agreed. "But the police are already on their way to the hotel. When they don't find you there, they will label it an abduction. Thomas is playing for a public scandal, Minerva. He wants to see you in handcuffs on the morning news."
"He’s using the law as a weapon," Tristan said, stepping out of the van. He held Elias close to his chest, shielding him from the mist. "He wants to force a confrontation."
"He’s already forced it," Benedict warned. He pointed toward the gate we had just passed.
A line of sirens was approaching. The red and blue lights reflected off the wet pavement, cutting through the fog. They weren't Whitmore security. They were the city police.
"They have the warrant, Minerva," Benedict said. "If you resist, you lose him forever. Thomas wins by default."
I looked at the sirens. I looked at the man holding my son. "I won't let them take him," I whispered.
"Give him to me," Benedict said. "I have a private plane at the regional airport. I can get him across the border before the warrant is processed. I can keep him safe until the lawyers handle the fallout."
"No," Tristan said. He stepped in front of me, his eyes burning with a lethal intensity. "We don't trust you, Benedict. You’d trade that boy for a chairmanship in a heartbeat."
"And what is your plan, Tristan?" Benedict sneered. "Hold him here? Fight the police? You're a disgraced CEO with no standing. You have no move left."
I looked at Elias. He was awake now, his eyes wide and terrified. He looked at the flashing lights. He looked at me.
"Mama?"
"I have you," I whispered. "I have you."
"Minerva, look at me," Tristan said. "I have a secondary code for the warehouse floor. There’s a panic room in the basement. It’s not on the blueprints. Take him there. Marcus and I will handle the police."
"You'll be arrested," I said.
"It doesn't matter," Tristan replied. He reached out and touched Elias’s cheek. For the first time, the boy didn't flinch. He leaned into the touch. "I’ll take the blow. I’ll say I took him. I'll give them a narrative that keeps the heat off you."
"Tristan—"
"Go!"
I didn't look back. I ran toward the side entrance of the warehouse, Elias heavy in my arms. Marcus stayed by the van, his weapon drawn but lowered. Tristan stood in the middle of the yard, his silhouette sharp against the approaching sirens.
I reached the basement. The air was cold and smelled of damp concrete. I found the hidden panel behind a stack of shipping crates. I punched in the code Tristan had given me.
The wall slid open.
I stepped inside and the heavy steel door clicked shut.
The room was small. It was filled with boxes of emergency supplies and a single cot. A small monitor on the wall showed the feed from the yard.
I watched the screen.
The police cars swerved into the yard, their tires spitting gravel. Officers spilled out, their weapons drawn. I saw Benedict Holloway step back, his hands raised. I saw Marcus stand his ground near the van.
Another car pulled into the yard. It wasn't a police car. It was a silver Mercedes.
Celeste Whitmore stepped out.
He pointed toward the side entrance.
On the monitor, I saw the officers move toward the building. I saw Tristan try to block them, but two officers grabbed his arms and forced him to the ground.
"No," I whispered, clutching Elias.
Celeste walked toward the camera. She looked directly into the lens, as if she knew I was watching. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small, silver canister I had seen in my office.
She didn't use it on the guards. She sprayed it directly onto the air intake vent of the warehouse.
I looked at the vents. I looked at my son.
"Mama, I’m sleepy," Elias whispered. His eyes were drooping.
I felt the dizziness hitting me again. My knees gave way, and I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the cold floor. I held Elias tight, trying to cover his mouth with my hand, but the air was already poisoned.
The monitor showed the side door of the warehouse being kicked open.
The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was Celeste’s face, filling the screen.
"I told you I was everywhere, Minerva," she whispered.