Chapter 7 - The Cage Beneath the Pier
We moved through the shadows of stacked shipping containers.
The rain masked the sound of our footsteps.
Two guards stood by the rusted side entrance of Warehouse Four, smoking beneath
an awning.
Richard didn't waste words.
He stepped from the darkness like a ghost.
Two silenced shots hissed into the rain.
Both men collapsed into the puddles before their cigarettes touched the ground.
Richard dragged them behind a steel dumpster.
He slipped inside the heavy metal door.
I followed, stepping over grease and puddles of rainwater.
The inside of the warehouse was massive and cavernous.
Stacked wooden crates, rusted chains, and the hum of an old diesel generator.
In the center, under a single hanging work lamp, sat an old wooden chair.
Teresa Castellano was tied to it.
Her gray hair was matted with sweat.
Her floral dinner dress was torn at the shoulder.
Her head hung limp against her chest.
A clear plastic IV bag hung from a rusted pipe above her, dripping milky fluid
into her frail arm.
Standing ten feet away was Celeste.
She had changed into a black trench coat.
Beside her stood Salvatore Moretti—sixty years old, silver hair slicked back,
wearing a bespoke gray wool coat.
Four armed bodyguards surrounded them.
"She's barely conscious, Salvatore," Celeste complained, tapping her foot.
"Her pulse is fluttery. Just force her thumb onto the inkpad."
Moretti took a slow drag from a fat cigar.
"The notary requires a conscious signature, my dear. If she dies before the ink
dries, Richard’s lawyers will freeze the probate in federal court for a decade."
He gestured toward a man in a white doctor’s coat.
"Give the old woman an adrenaline shot. Wake her up."
The corrupt doctor stepped toward Teresa with a large syringe.
"No!" Teresa wheezed, her voice faint, trembling with age.
"My son... will feed you to the harbor, Salvatore..."
Celeste laughed, a cold, shrill cackle.
"Your son is buried under fifty tons of masonry at the estate, you old hag.
Daniel took care of him an hour ago."
Teresa’s frail shoulders shook.
A single tear rolled down her withered cheek.
"Richard..."
I couldn't breathe.
Beside me, behind a stack of rusted machine parts, Richard’s entire body went
rigid.
The veins on his neck swelled like steel cables.
He didn't yell.
He didn't roar.
May you like
He raised his rifle, leaned around the iron beam, and took aim at the doctor’s
syringe.
