Chapter 7 - The Confrontation
I reached inside the safe and grabbed the hard drives and the bracelet, slipping them safely into the deep interior pockets of my winter coat.
As I turned away from the pillar, a floorboard creaked upstairs.
It wasn't the settling of a house cooling down in the storm. It was the deliberate, heavy tread of heavy boots moving across the kitchen floor.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I froze, my hand instinctively dropping to the heavy metal flashlight at my belt.
"I know you're down there, Nathan," a voice called out from the top of the stairs.
Marcus Kane.
He sounded calm, almost conversational, but there was a dangerous, jagged edge to his tone.
"You always did think you were the savior of the family, didn't you?" Marcus continued, his boots descending the first few wooden steps. "Always swooping in with your surgeon salary, your high-class morals, and your pathetic attempts to manage Sarah’s life."
"You're done, Marcus," I called out, my voice steady despite the adrenaline flooding my bloodstream. "The police have your financial records, the federal wire transfer is frozen, and Sarah is safe at the hospital with her children."
A dark chuckle echoed down the stairwell.
Marcus stepped into the beam of my flashlight, standing halfway down the stairs. He looked disheveled—his designer coat stained with mud, his hair wild, and his right hand tucked firmly inside his jacket pocket.
"Safe?" Marcus sneered, taking another step down. "Sarah is weak. Without me, she’s nothing. And those brats of mine—they're nothing more than leverage. But you... you just had to stick your nose where it didn't belong, didn't you, Doctor?"
In one swift motion, Marcus pulled his hand out of his pocket.
May you like
He wasn't holding a gun. He was holding a heavy chrome-plated tire iron, its surface reflecting the cold light of my flashlight.
"Let's see how steady those surgeon hands are," Marcus whispered, lunging down the stairs toward me.
