Chapter 6
686words
I stealthily slipped out of the apartment. Outside, rain poured hard, with thunder rolling overhead. I drove the old Honda Fit we used for grocery runs, tearing along the muddy mountain roads.
About two hours later, the car died halfway up the mountain. I abandoned it and continued on foot. The rain nearly blinded me, and there were no streetlights or people. The mountain path was treacherous, every step a test from the sky.
I didn't stop, though. Hatred, fear, and worry pushed me forward. At last, I saw lights glowing at the pitch-black mountaintop.
Instead of calling it a welfare home, the place looked more like a prison than an orphanage. There were high walls, electric fencing, and guard dogs pacing at the gate.
I didn't enter through the front like an impulsive person would. Enduring the pounding rain, covered in mud, I climbed the tree by the back entrance and hauled myself over the ten-foot wall.
I hit the grass hard on the other side, sharp pain shooting through my ankle, but I ignored it.
"Hurry up! The boat's waiting at the dock! Load this batch into the truck now!" a man's rough voice barked from nearby.
My heart clenched. I clamped a hand over my mouth and peered through the gap in the grass. Several men in black raincoats were carrying children out of a gray building. They were all asleep, clearly drugged.
One child after another was transported, and my eyes frantically searched among those small bodies.
At last, I saw Dorothy. She was still wearing that knitted red bunny sweater. It might be dirty and tattered, but I recognized it instantly. That had to be her!
She lay limply on the man's shoulder, pale, her hand still clutching an unfinished set of building blocks. Realizing she was still alive, I felt so relieved that tears ran down my face.
"Dottie…" I almost screamed her name out loud, but I bit so hard on my lip that blood filled my mouth, and I forced my voice down. I couldn't afford to alert them.
The man carrying Dorothy walked toward a black van. My mind was screaming at me that if I rushed out now, I would either be beaten to death or dragged away as a madwoman. Either way, I couldn't save her.
There were too many of them, and they had electric batons. If I made a sound, they could move Dorothy immediately, or worse, kill her. I had to calm down.
My hands shaking, I raised my phone. With the help of the lightning flashes, I hit record, zoomed in, and captured the license plate.
On the screen, I saw the man toss Dorothy into the back like a piece of luggage. My heart jerked violently, pain stabbing with every beat.
Then, I shifted the camera and caught another scene. Chester's assistant stood by the van, handing the leader a thick envelope. The moment the recording ended, it felt like my insides were burning.
"Hang in there, Dottie… Mommy will save you. Just wait a few more hours, okay?"
I watched the van disappear into the rain. I didn't chase it and throw my life away. I knew, for a fact, that I needed power—someone who could crush Chester and make that van stop.
More than that, I needed a knife, a trusty blade that could be driven straight into Chester's heart—one clean stroke to finish him and to erase everything he had ever cared about in this world.
I turned and ran into the rain, dialing a number I hadn't touched in years. "Are you interested in a partnership, Christian?"
Christian Grant was Chester's half-brother, the Grant family's dirty secret, the illegitimate son they never dared bring into the light. He was also known, in our circles, as a madman.
At this point, working with the devil was much better than doing nothing.
