Chapter 6 - Ambushed in the Shadows
We didn't take the front doors.
Julian led me through the service corridor behind the safety deposit vault, down a flight of concrete stairs that led into the city's old steam tunnel network. Riverdale’s financial district was built over decades-old industrial architecture; pipes groaned with scalding steam, and water dripped from the vaulted brick ceilings, echoing like distant gunshots.
Every step was an ordeal. My fractured ribs throbbed with a sickening, rhythmic pulse that made nausea churn in the back of my throat. Julian kept a hand on my shoulder, supporting my weight while his other hand remained locked around the grip of his pistol.
"The steam tunnel terminates two blocks east, beneath an abandoned rail terminal," Julian explained, his voice low against the hum of the pipes. "I have a secondary vehicle parked in the loading dock. If we reach it, Arthur’s hounds won't be able to track us."
"How long do we have until the Founder’s Gala begins?" I asked, wiping cold condensation from my eyes.
"It started an hour ago," Julian said, glancing at his tactical watch. "The society elite are already drinking champagne in the grand ballroom of the Sterling Manor. Arthur won't cancel it. His pride wouldn't allow it. Canceling the gala would signal weakness to the banks and the board. He has to pretend everything is normal."
"He thinks Higgins is going to flush us out of the bank."
"Exactly. Which buys us forty minutes."
We reached the rusted iron ladder that led up to the basement of the old rail terminal. Julian climbed first, his boots silent on the rungs. He pushed the trapdoor open an inch, scanning the darkened expanse above before gesturing for me to follow.
I hauled myself up, biting my lip so hard I tasted copper to keep from screaming as my collarbone strained against the climb. We tumbled out into the freezing shadows of an abandoned freight depot. Broken wooden pallets and rusted machinery lay strewn across the dirt floor like the bones of dead beasts.
Across the warehouse, fifty yards away, sat an unbranded dark green SUV.
"There it is," Julian whispered. "Stay low. Stay behind me."
We moved quickly through the shadows of the rusted boxcars. The scent of motor oil, damp earth, and dry decay filled the air.
We were twenty feet from the SUV when the unmistakable sound of a shotgun racking echoed from the darkness above.
*CLACK-CLACK.*
"Going somewhere, Uncle Julian?"
The voice echoed from the metal catwalk suspended twenty feet overhead.
Floodlights suddenly flared to life, blinding us with brutal, incandescent white light.
I raised my arm to shield my eyes. Standing on the catwalk, leaning over the rusted railing with a short-barreled tactical shotgun, was Marcus. Standing beside him were three private security contractors dressed in black tactical gear, carrying automatic rifles.
"Did you really think Arthur wouldn't remember the steam tunnels?" Marcus laughed, his voice echoing off the corrugated iron roof. "You designed the evacuation routes for Sterling Logistics twenty years ago, Julian. You're predictable. An old relic fighting a war that ended a decade ago."
Julian didn't panic. He instantly shoved me behind a massive steel support pillar, drawing his pistol in a fluid, continuous motion.
"Marcus!" Julian called out, his voice rock-steady. "Put the gun down, boy. You're an accessory to capital murder. If you pull that trigger, there isn't a trust fund on earth that can keep you out of a federal death row."
"Capital murder requires a body, Julian!" Marcus sneered. "And out here? In an industrial yard slated for demolition on Monday? Nobody is ever going to find what's left of you or Maya."
Marcus raised his hand to signal his men. "Kill the old man. Bring me the girl and the bag."
"Down!" Julian roared.
*RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!*
A storm of automatic gunfire erupted from the catwalk. Bullets chewed into the concrete floor, sending deadly shards of stone and lead screaming through the air. The steel pillar rang like a church bell as high-velocity rounds sparked against the metal, showering us in hot sparks.
Julian leaned out from behind the pillar, firing three rapid, perfectly placed shots.
One of the private security guards on the catwalk screamed, dropping his rifle as he tumbled over the railing, crashing twenty feet down onto a pile of wooden crates with a sickening crunch.
"Cover the left flank!" Marcus screamed, his arrogance cracking into panic as he pumped his shotgun, blasting a crater of concrete near Julian's boots.
"Maya, listen to me," Julian yelled over the deafening roar of gunfire, slapping a fresh magazine into his pistol. "The green SUV’s keys are in the magnetic box beneath the rear wheel well. The engine is primed. When I move to draw their fire, you run for that vehicle. Do not look back!"
"No! I'm not leaving you!" I shouted, tears stinging my eyes. "You came back for me!"
Julian grabbed my face with his rough, scarred hand, forcing me to look into his gray eyes. For the first time, the cold stone in his expression softened, revealing the fierce, protective love of a man who had loved my mother more than life itself.
"I didn't come back for revenge, Maya," Julian whispered, his voice trembling slightly beneath the gunfire. "I promised Clara the day you were born that I would keep you alive. That's the only reason I survived that bomb. That's the only reason I’m still breathing. Now take that bag, get to the manor, and make them pay."
Before I could scream his name, Julian broke from cover, sprinting into the open toward a stack of steel drums, firing continuously toward the catwalk to draw every rifle toward him.
"She’s making a break for the SUV!" one of the guards shouted.
"Focus on Vance! Put him down!" Marcus screamed.
Julian took a bullet to his left shoulder, his body jolting violently, but he didn't stop. He fired two more rounds, dropping the second guard, before diving behind the engine block of a rusted tractor.
*Now!*
My body moved on pure instinct. I sprinted through the blinding white light toward the green SUV. Pain was no longer a sensation; it was a fire engulfing my entire torso, but the fear was gone. Replaced by a cold, crystalline fury.
Bullets ripped through the dirt behind my heels.
I reached the SUV, dropped to my knees, reached under the rear wheel well, and ripped the magnetic lockbox free. My bloody fingers fumbled with the key, jammed it into the driver’s door, and scrambled inside.
Through the rear window, I saw Marcus racking his shotgun, advancing along the catwalk toward the tractor where Julian was pinned, bleeding heavily from his shoulder.
I didn't flee.
I slammed the key into the ignition, roared the V8 engine to life, threw the transmission into drive, and stomped the gas pedal straight to the floorboards.
The SUV surged forward like a missile, tires screaming against the dirt, aiming directly for the rusted scaffolding supporting the metal catwalk.
"MARCUS! LOOK OUT!" the surviving guard screamed.
Marcus looked down just in time to see the heavy steel grille of the SUV slam into the foundation pillars at fifty miles per hour.
*CRASH!*
The impact launched me forward against the steering wheel, the airbag exploding into my bruised chest with a violent roar. But the rusted metal scaffolding snapped like dry twigs.
May you like
The entire catwalk tilted, groaned, and collapsed in an avalanche of twisted iron and corrugated sheet metal, plunging Marcus and his last man twenty feet straight into the wreckage below.
***
