Chapter 9 - Into the Lion's Den
The sub-basement smelled of damp earth, vintage oak casks, and salt spray.
The storm roared with feral intensity down here; the waves slammed against the exterior sea wall just beyond the heavy iron-reinforced doors of the cellar, vibrating through the concrete floor.
Gabriel moved down the vaulted stone corridor, his weapon drawn in a low-ready position. The only illumination came from the strobe-like flashes of lightning penetrating through the barred ocean vents near the ceiling.
Then, he heard the weeping.
Small, broken, suffocating sobs.
Gabriel rounded the final archway and entered the subterranean tasting room.
What he saw ignited a cold, lethal rage that threatened to consume his discipline entirely.
Thomas, the chauffeur, was standing near the heavy iron sea-gate, holding an industrial crowbar. The gate was unlatched, swinging open an inch, revealing the black, foaming abyss of the ocean surge below. A drop into that churning surf meant being pulverized against the jagged sea cliffs within seconds.
In the center of the room, standing beside a heavy antique refectory table, was Victoria Ashford.
She had Nora by the hair.
The four-year-old child was dressed only in her nightgown, her knees bleeding from being dragged down the concrete stairs. Nora’s mouth was covered in heavy silver duct tape, her hands bound behind her back with industrial zip-ties.
Beside Victoria on the table was a typed suicide note, allegedly written by Gabriel, confessing to the kidnapping and accidental drowning of the Bennett heiress out of spite and extortion.
"Hold her over the surge, Thomas," Victoria commanded, her voice completely calm, devoid of any human resonance. "Make sure the current catches her immediately. I don't want the body washing up until the audit deadline passes on Monday."
"No!"
A voice roared from the shadows near the stairs.
It was Arthur.
Arthur had followed them down. He stood at the entrance of the cellar, soaked from the rain, holding a trembling snub-nosed revolver. His face was a mask of shattered comprehension, his eyes fixed on his bound daughter and the woman he had treated like a mother.
"Victoria..." Arthur choked, his hands shaking so violently the gun rattled against his knuckles. "You... you brought her down here. Gabriel was telling the truth."
Victoria didn't flinch. She didn't drop Nora. Instead, she let out a dry, chilling laugh that echoed off the stone vaulting.
"Oh, Arthur," she sighed, shaking her head. "You poor, pathetic, spineless creature. You really are your father’s son. You couldn't run a business without Julianna, and you couldn't keep this family alive without me."
"You killed Julianna," Arthur whispered, tears cutting through the grime on his face. "You cut the brakes."
"Julianna was an arrogant little ingrate who thought she could audit *my* life!" Victoria spat, her voice suddenly rising into a shriek of venom. "I built this empire! I endured that miserable old man for fifteen years! That fortune belongs to me! Not to her! And certainly not to this worthless, sniveling little brat!"
Victoria snapped her fingers. "Thomas. Shoot Arthur with the groundskeeper’s spare gun. We’ll say Gabriel ambushed them both."
Thomas dropped the crowbar and reached for his waistband.
*Crack.*
A silenced round tore through the gloom.
Thomas gasped, his weapon dropping to the flagstones as a nine-millimeter slug shattered his right shoulder. He collapsed against the iron sea-gate, groaning in agony.
Gabriel stepped out from behind a massive wine rack, his pistol raised, his eyes locked on Victoria’s head.
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"Let her go, Victoria," Gabriel said, his voice as steady as death itself. "Now."
***
