Chapter 7 - The Blood of the Covenant
"How can you be sure it's a trap?" I argued, staring at the horrific image of my cousin. Julian was a spoiled brat, yes, but seeing him brutalized made my stomach churn. "What if the syndicate showed up early? What if they're holding the family hostage?"
Thomas tossed me a bulletproof vest. "Put this on. And listen to me very carefully. Your family sold their souls a long time ago. Julian owes the syndicate money too—gambling debts. They staged that photo to draw you out. The moment you walk back into that estate, Robert will put a gun to your head and force you to wire the ten million dollars."
I looked at the vest in my hands, the reality of my situation finally crashing over me. I wasn't Elias Sterling, the struggling medic anymore. I was a high-value target.
"They murdered your grandfather, Elias," Thomas reminded me softly. "Do not let misplaced empathy get you killed. Arthur chose you because you have a good heart. Don't let them weaponize it."
I took a deep breath, removed my phone battery, and crushed the SIM card under my heel. "Okay. What's the plan?"
For the next two days, we lived like ghosts in the freezing warehouse. Thomas trained me on basic situational awareness, how to check for tails, and how to handle a firearm—a heavy Glock 19 that he insisted I carry. I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Grandpa Arthur handing me that check. An escape, he had called it. I finally understood he wasn't just talking about financial freedom. He was talking about escaping the rot of the Sterling family.
On the third night, a black sedan pulled up to the warehouse. A man in a trench coat stepped out, handing Thomas a manila envelope through the window. Thomas inspected the contents, nodded, and handed the man a thick stack of cash.
"The passport is ready," Thomas said, tossing the envelope to me. "Evan Stone. We leave for Indiana in ten minutes."
I opened the passport. The photo was mine, but the name and details were completely fabricated. It felt like I was erasing myself.
Suddenly, the reinforced steel doors of the warehouse exploded inward.
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A massive armored truck rammed through the barricade, headlights blinding us. Armed men in tactical gear poured out of the back, raising assault rifles.
"They found us!" Thomas roared, drawing his weapon. "Elias, run!"
