Chapter 10
The iron hatch of the incinerator swung open, revealing a roaring, orange vortex of flames that cast flickering, demonic shadows across the basement walls. The blast of heat hit Claire’s face like a physical blow.
"If I go down, the brat goes with me!" the woman shrieked, holding the blue bundle directly over the open maw of the furnace.
"Don't you dare touch her!" Claire screamed, clawing her way across the oil-stained concrete floor. Her hands scraped against the gravel, her IV needle ripping clean out of her vein, splashing crimson across the gray ground. She didn't feel it. She saw only the tiny blue blanket inches from the fire.
Behind her, Marcus fired two rapid shots from his position on the floor. The bullets struck the armed man in the chest; he collapsed against the duffel bag with a wet choke, dropping his pistol.
The woman in the raincoat flinched at the sound of the gunfire, her grip slipping on the swaddle. The blue blanket tilted toward the flames.
"June!" Claire roared.
Gathering every remaining drop of life, adrenaline, and fury in her torn body, Claire launched herself forward off the floor. Her body slammed into the woman’s knees with the force of an unguided missile. The woman lost her footing on the slick floor, stumbling backward with a sharp cry.
As they crashed down together, the blue bundle slipped from the woman's arms.
Claire twisted mid-fall, her back hitting the concrete as she thrust her arms upward, catching the falling bundle against her chest just inches above the scorching iron rim of the furnace door. The heat singed the ends of Claire's hair, but she clamped her arms around the newborn, rolling violently away from the opening.
The infant let out a loud, healthy, furious wail.
"I have you... I have you, baby," Claire sobbed, pressing her cheek against the baby's warm forehead, her tears mixing with the sweat and soot on the child's skin.
Across the floor, the woman in the yellow raincoat scrambled to her feet, clutching a jagged metal wrench from the tool bench. Her hood fell back, revealing a pale, scarred face and cold, reptilian eyes. She looked at Claire, raising the iron tool with murderous intent. "You should have stayed in bed, Mrs. Mercer."
Before she could bring the wrench down, a deafening blast echoed through the basement.
The woman’s eyes went wide. She stumbled backward, the wrench clattering from her fingers, before collapsing heavily against the steel base of the furnace. Behind her stood Officer Marcus, his smoking service weapon held steady in his uninjured left hand, his face pale from blood loss.
"Are you... alright, ma'am?" Marcus wheezed, sliding down the wall into a sitting position.
"We're alive," Claire whispered, clutching June so tightly to her chest that she could feel the tiny heartbeat vibrating against her own ribs. "We're alive."
The baby girl cried louder, her strong lungs filling the concrete chamber with the sweetest sound Claire had ever heard. Claire pulled back the blanket to check the ankle. There, pristine and untouched beneath the cotton cuff, was the pink hospital band bearing the name: June Mercer - Female - 7 lbs 4 oz.
Down the corridor, the sound of heavy tactical boots and shouting voices signaled the arrival of the police SWAT team. Beams of high-powered flashlights cut through the lingering smoke.
"Clear! Clear! Medical team down here immediately!" a voice shouted from the stairwell.
Claire closed her eyes, letting her head rest against the cool concrete floor as the adrenaline finally began to drain from her veins. Her stitches were torn, her body was battered, but her daughter was breathing in her arms.
Yet, as the flashlights illuminated the fallen woman in the yellow coat, Claire's eyes caught something glinting on the woman's open wrist beneath her sleeve.
It was an engraved silver bracelet. Carved into the polished metal were three words and a crest identical to the one Luke wore on his firm's signet ring:
Property of Mercer Holdings - Project Rebirth.
Claire's blood froze solid in her veins.
Luke hadn't been blackmailed by strangers. The syndicate wasn't extorting him. He wasn't the desperate victim of a debt.
May you like
He was the architect.
And as the paramedics rushed toward her with a gurney, Claire looked into the shadows of the basement, realizing with bone-chilling clarity that Luke was only one of twelve partners who owned the firm—and the others knew exactly where she was.
