Chapter 6 - The Spider's Web
The world dropped out from beneath Maya’s feet.
The air vanished from her lungs. The plush hallway of the multimillion-dollar mansion dissolved into a spinning vortex of black and red.
"No..." Maya gasped, falling to her knees. Her hands scrambled frantically for her phone, dialing the St. Jude’s pediatric nursing station with frantic, trembling thumbs. "No, no, God, please, no..."
"Nurse Vance?" a panicked voice answered on the third ring. It was Sarah, the morning shift supervisor. "Maya? Where are you?! Two men with Department of Child and Family Services badges and court transfer orders just took Lily from isolation! They said she was being moved to a federal treatment facility in Maryland! They had armed state marshals with them—"
"They weren't marshals, Sarah!" Maya screamed, tears finally spilling over her cheeks in a torrent of pure, unadulterated agony. "They took her! They took my baby sister!"
Maya dropped the phone. It clattered against the marble floor, the screen shattering into spiderweb fractures.
She buried her face in her blood-soaked hands, her shoulders convulsing with ragged, suffocating sobs. For three years, she had starved herself, worked eighty-hour weeks, endured abuse from drunken patients, and swallowed every ounce of pride just to keep that little girl breathing. And now, because she had stopped to save the life of a mafia don, her sister was going to die in a dark shipping container.
A shadow fell over her.
Adrian didn't say a word. He didn't offer empty platitudes or hollow comfort.
He dropped to one knee directly in front of her, ignoring the fiery agony tearing through his freshly reopened surgical wound. With powerful, unyielding hands, he pulled Maya’s wrists away from her tear-streaked face, forcing her to look directly into his eyes.
"Look at me, Maya," Adrian commanded. His voice wasn't cold anymore; it was an anchor in the middle of a Category 5 hurricane. "Look at me."
Maya looked up through blurred vision.
Adrian’s face was inches from hers. The ruthless don, the man feared by senators and federal judges, looked at her with a focus so terrifyingly fierce it felt like physical heat.
"I swore to you five minutes ago that nobody touches what is mine," Adrian said, every word hammered into iron. "Your sister is alive. Marco wouldn't have kidnapped her to kill her immediately; he took her as collateral to secure his escape route to the cargo freighter at Pier 42."
Adrian turned his head sharply toward the two terrified council members who still stood frozen against the far wall.
"Don Bernardo," Adrian snapped, his tone cracking like a whip. "Get on your phone. Mobilize every soldier, every port captain, and every customs official on our payroll. Seal every exit out of Boston Harbor. If a single tugboat leaves the slip before I get there, I will burn your family's shipping lines to the waterline."
Don Bernardo scrambled for his phone, bowing frantically. "Immediately, Adrian! Right now!"
Adrian looked down at Marco, who was still pinned beneath Titan’s heavy paw.
"Where is the freighter heading, Marco?" Adrian asked softly.
Marco spat blood onto the marble. "Go to hell, Adrian. You shoot me, you'll never find the container. That girl’s leukemia medication has to be kept refrigerated. Without it, she’ll be dead from sepsis in twelve hours anyway. You let me walk to the docks, and I’ll tell you which slip she’s in."
Adrian stood up slowly. He didn't bother arguing.
He simply looked down at Titan.
"Titan," Adrian whispered, pointing toward Marco’s left leg. "Knee."
The mastiff’s jaws snapped shut on Marco’s left kneecap with a sickening, wet crunch.
Marco let out a high-pitched, shrieking scream that bounced off the high ceilings, thrashing in blind agony. "PIER 42! SLIP C! THE *NORTHERN STAR*! THE CONTAINER IS NUMBER 884-BLUE! STOP, GOD, CALL HIM OFF, CALL HIM OFF!"
"Off, Titan," Adrian commanded calmly.
The dog released him and trotted back to Maya’s side, nudging his large head gently against her wet cheek, letting out a soft, sympathetic whine.
Adrian turned to Dr. Howard, who was standing frozen in the doorway of the surgical suite. "Howard. Pack three bags of O-negative blood, a field surgical kit, and a portable refrigerated cooler filled with pediatric chemotherapy stabilization drugs. You are coming with us."
"Adrian, you can't walk, let alone fight!" Howard protested, terror in his eyes. "Your splenic artery will blow! You will bleed to death inside your own abdominal cavity!"
Adrian walked over to the closet, pulled out a fresh black dress shirt, and slipped his arms through the sleeves, his jaw clenching as the fabric rubbed against his raw wounds. He buttoned it with steady, cold fingers, then strapped a dual shoulder holster across his broad chest, sliding two fully loaded magazines into place.
He grabbed a heavy black overcoat, slipped it over his shoulders, and finally turned back to Maya, offering her his hand.
May you like
"You saved my life twice in six hours, Maya Vance," Adrian said, his gaze burning into hers with absolute devotion. "Now get up. We have a little girl to bring home."
***
