Chapter 5 - The Red Sunrise
The call was made.
Mateo held the phone to my ear, his gun pressed against my temple as I spoke the words he had written for me. My voice was hollow, a dry, dead sound that carried the weight of my absolute despair.
"Sebastian," I said into the receiver. "They have Oliver. They have me. Mateo wants the shipping proxies."
There was a long, terrible silence on the other end. Then, Sebastian’s voice came through—not frantic, not angry, but carrying an icy, terrifying calm that made even Mateo shift his weight.
"Let me speak to my brother," Sebastian said.
Mateo took the phone, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Hey, big brother. Looks like your perfect little life has a leak. You have three hours to sign the documents and send Gabriel to the north dock. If I don't see the confirmation by five in the morning, I’m dumping the bodies in the canal."
"You don't have three hours, Mateo," Sebastian’s voice said, sounding remarkably close.
Before Mateo could respond, a sudden, deafening explosion rocked the warehouse.
The massive steel bay doors at the far end of the building exploded inward in a shower of sparks, metal, and smoke. The force of the blast threw Mateo to the ground, his gun skittering across the wet concrete.
Through the burning haze, a black, armored SUV roared into the warehouse, its tires screeching as it spun into a defensive circle around us. The doors flew open, and Gabriel and six of his elite security team stepped out, weapons raised, their muzzle flashes illuminating the dark space like lightning.
The warehouse erupted into a chaotic, terrifying gunfight. Mateo’s men returned fire from behind the wooden crates, the sounds of automatic weapons echoing off the metal walls like thunder.
I threw myself over Oliver, shielding his small body with mine as bullets chipped the concrete around us.
Then, the rear door of the SUV opened.
A man stepped out.
He didn't use a ramp. He didn't use a chair.
Sebastian Lombardi stood on his own two feet.
He was wearing a dark trench coat, his face a pale, furious mask in the flashing light of the gunfire. His legs were stiff, his movements slow and deliberate, but he was walking. He held a massive black pistol in his right hand, his eyes locked onto his brother who was scrambling to find his weapon on the floor.
"Sebastian!" Mateo screamed, his face twisted in pure, animal terror as he saw his paralyzed brother marching toward him like a vengeful ghost. "It’s a lie! You’re dead! You’re supposed to be dead!"
Sebastian didn't say a word. He fired three times.
Each shot was precise, taking down Mateo's remaining guards with a clinical efficiency that proved his hands were just as deadly as his mind. He stopped five feet from where Mateo lay, his gun pointed directly down at his brother's chest.
Mateo raised his hands, weeping now, his arrogance entirely gone. "Sebastian, please! We’re blood! You can't do this! Father wouldn't have wanted this!"
"Father is dead, Mateo," Sebastian said, his voice cold as the Chicago winter. "And so is your place in this family."
He pulled the trigger.
The sound of the final shot seemed to echo forever in the quiet warehouse.
Sebastian slowly turned to look at me. The effort of standing, of walking, of carrying the weight of his own body had taken a massive toll; his legs were shaking violently, and he had to lean against the hood of the SUV to keep from collapsing. But his eyes were no longer empty. They were filled with a profound, quiet gratitude.
He looked at Oliver, who was gasping for air, and then at me.
"Gabriel," Sebastian croaked, his strength finally failing as he slipped back onto the leather seat of the vehicle. "Get the boy his machine. And take them home."
The sun was just beginning to rise over Lake Michigan as we drove away from the shipping yards, casting a pale, red light over the city. The nightmare was over, but the world we lived in had changed forever.
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I looked down at Oliver, who was breathing easily now, his face resting against my shoulder. Then I looked at the checkbook Sebastian had left in my bag, realizing that while I had cured a monster's body, I had also bought my son's life.
We were no longer running from the danger. We were part of it now—and there was no turning back.
