Chapter 6 - The Saltwater CorridorA deadly, suffocating silence descended upon the vault, broken only by the distant, howling roar of the hurricane crashing against the exterior seawall.
Christian Vance Junior slowly lowered his flashlight. He turned his head toward Barrett, and the sheer, murderous fury blazing in his green eyes made the hardened security director take an involuntary step back.
“Who,” Christian whispered, each word dropping like a slab of granite onto stone, “has been tending to my father?”
Before Barrett could formulate an answer, panicked, high-pitched sobbing echoed from the service corridor outside.
Two tactical guards rounded the corner, dragging a struggling, pale-faced Mrs. Cruz by her arms and throwing her violently onto the concrete floor at Christian’s feet.
“Mr. Vance! Please! I can explain!” Mrs. Cruz shrieked, clawing frantically at the damp floor, her oily composure entirely shattered. “The old man... he lost his mind! We had to keep him secure down here! It was for his own protection!”
Christian did not raise his voice. He did not scream or threaten her with a weapon.
He simply walked forward with slow, deliberate steps, knelt down, grabbed Mrs. Cruz by her thick hair, and jerked her head back until her terrified eyes met his freezing gaze.
“You kept my father in a concrete oven while you pocketed his care funds and lied to my face,” Christian said softly, his voice trembling with suppressed violence.
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He stood up, brushing off his cuffs, and looked at Barrett.
“Take her to the marina docks,” Christian ordered coldly. “Tie her ankles to a mooring buoy and let the hurricane decide if she deserves to breathe.”
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