Chapter 12 - The Surgeon's Grip
Elias stood swaying on his feet, blood dripping from his shoulder, staining the white snow that had blown onto the living room floor. He looked at Julian, seeing the absolute arrogance of a man who believed he had already won.
"You want the code?" Elias coughed, blood speckling his lips. "It’s my sister’s birthday."
Julian frowned. "Clara's birthday? How sentimental."
As Julian’s grip loosened for a fraction of a second, Elias moved. He didn't use a gun. He didn't use a knife. He used the one thing he had spent twenty years perfecting: his hands.
Elias lunged forward, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. His right hand shot out like a viper, his fingers gripping Julian’s throat with terrifying, mechanical precision.
Elias knew exactly where the carotid artery was. He knew the exact amount of pressure required to occlude blood flow to the brain. He clamped down with the grip strength of a surgeon who spent hours gripping bone saws and retractors.
Julian’s eyes went wide with shock. He swung the iron poker wildly, hitting Elias in the ribs, cracking a bone. But Elias didn't let go. He stepped into the blow, driving Julian backward until he slammed the sociopath against the stone fireplace.
"You think I'm soft, Julian?" Elias whispered, his face inches from his brother-in-law's turning purple face. "I hold beating hearts in my hands. I decide who lives and who dies every single day. You are nothing but a coward who beats women in the dark."
Julian gasped for air, his hands clawing desperately at Elias’s iron grip. His vision began to blur. The lack of oxygen to his brain was shutting his body down in seconds.
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"This is for Clara," Elias hissed, applying maximum pressure.
Julian’s eyes rolled back in his head. The iron poker clattered to the stone floor. His body went entirely limp, sliding down the wall as Elias finally released his grip, leaving the monster unconscious and utterly defeated on the floor.
