Chapter 13 - Shadows on the Waterfront
In the dimly lit lower level of the Manhattan warehouse, the damp concrete air smelled of ozone and rust.
Marcus Thorne sat chained to a heavy steel chair, his right wrist bandaged from the bullet wound, his arrogant demeanor entirely shattered. The man who had once tried to siphon half a billion dollars from an international syndicate now looked every bit of his age—defeated, hollow, and utterly alone.
The heavy steel door scraped open, and the rhythmic sound of heavy boots echoed across the floor.
I stepped out of the shadows, stopping three paces away from him. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to.
"You always had a habit of biting the hand that fed you, Marcus," I said quietly, looking down at him.
Marcus raised his head, his bloodshot eyes flashing with a spark of bitter defiance. "You can keep me in a hole all you want, Daniel... or whatever name you're hiding behind now. But you can't undo what my partners set in motion. The world knows who you are now."
"The world knows nothing," I replied coldly. "They know a corporate conspiracy fell apart overnight. They know three privileged cowards lost their fortunes. And you... you are going to spend the rest of your natural life in a maximum-security facility where no one will ever hear your voice again."
Marcus let out a harsh, broken laugh. "And your daughter? Do you think she'll ever look at you the same way when she finds out what her father really is? A monster hiding behind pancakes and an auto-parts store?"
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"My daughter knows what love is," I said, turning my back on him. "Something you will never understand."
I signaled to Thomas in the shadows. "Prepare the transport. Take him to the facility. And make sure his file is permanently sealed from public record."
