Chapter 3 - Cutting The Chains Of Cruelty
I examined the heavy industrial chain wrapped twice around the concrete support pillar, secured with a heavy-duty hardened steel padlock.
I reached into my canvas coat pocket and pulled out my heavy master ring of freight yard keys—keys that opened every security gate, maintenance locker, and warehouse from Kansas City to Omaha.
On that ring was a universal bypass pick I’d carried since my days as a fleet mechanic, built specifically to unlock heavy industrial cargo padlocks.
Within twelve seconds, the internal tumblers clicked sharply, and the iron chain fell onto the damp concrete with a heavy, metallic clatter.
Wyatt let out a ragged breath of pure relief, though his body went rigid as the slightest movement flared through his shattered, swollen knee.
“I can’t walk, Dad,” he whispered, sweat pouring down his pale, bruised forehead under the dim fluorescent light bulbs overhead.
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“You don’t need to walk, son,” I replied, pulling a heavy canvas furniture blanket from a nearby storage rack and wrapping it securely around his torso.
“I’m going to carry you out through the rear loading doors, but first, we are going to make sure Sabrina and her father can never run again.”
