Chapter 8 - The Final Stand at the Nursery
We reached the second floor just as the power flickered again.
The hallway was filled with the smell of ozone and wet carpet.
I saw the light beneath my bedroom door—the temporary nursery.
I heard the sound of someone whistling,
a low,
tuneless melody that made my skin crawl.
It was Victor.
I signaled for Emma to take the side door through the dressing room.
I would take the main entrance.
I took a deep breath,
the weight of the shotgun familiar and solid in my hands.
I kicked the door open.
Victor was standing by Sophie’s crib,
the syringe in his hand,
the plunger halfway down.
"Drop it!"
I roared.
Victor spun around,
his eyes widening in shock.
"How did you—"
"Drop the needle,
Victor,"
I said,
my finger tightening on the trigger.
He smiled,
a slow,
sickly grin.
"You won't shoot,
Daniel. Not with the babies right there."
He moved the needle closer to Sophie’s neck.
"One twitch of my thumb,
and she’s gone. It’s a concentrated dose of potassium. Her heart will just... stop."
"And then I'll kill you."
I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead.
He was right.
I couldn't risk the spray of the shotgun.
"Let her go,"
I said,
my voice shaking.
"It’s over. I have the logs. I have the hidden footage."
"The police are coming."
Victor laughed.
"In this storm? They won't be here for hours."
"And by then,
I’ll be long gone with the ruby and enough cash to disappear."
"You’re a failure,
Daniel. Just like your father."
"At least he had the decency to die before he lost everything."
Suddenly,
a sharp crack echoed through the room.
A bullet shattered the lamp on the nightstand,
sending shards of glass flying.
Victor flinched,
dropping the syringe.
Emma stepped out from the dressing room,
her pistol leveled at Victor’s head.
"I told you I know how to hit what I aim at,"
she said,
her voice steady as a rock.
Victor lunged for the gun on the bed,
but I was faster.
I swung the butt of the shotgun,
catching him in the ribs,
sending him crashing into the wall.
He fell to the floor,
gasping for air,
his face a mask of agony.
I stepped over him,
picking up the syringe and throwing it across the room.
I checked Sophie.
She was awake,
her eyes wide,
but she was breathing.
I looked at Emma,
who was still holding the gun on Victor.
"Is it over?"
she asked.
"Not yet,"
I said,
May you like
looking at Victor.
"But the story is changing."
