Chapter 17 - Blood on the Crane
"Untie the boy," Daniel demanded, his voice dropping into an octave of absolute death. "Take me. Finish your feud with me."
"Oh, I will finish it with you, Daniel," Julian said, tilting his head. "Look at him. Look at your precious son. That collar isn't just leather and rhinestones this time. It’s an explosive clamp. When that timer hits zero, the charge detonates, decapitating him instantly. And the toxin in his veins will stop his heart two minutes before that anyway."
Julian pulled a small, glass vial filled with golden serum from his pocket. "The antidote. The only dose on the eastern seaboard."
"What do you want?" Daniel asked, lowering his weapon an inch, playing for time. He could hear the faint, muffled hum of high-performance engines approaching through the storm outside—Marcus was near.
"I want what your father made me do thirty years ago," Julian smiled, a terrifying, predatory grin. "Kneel. Crawl to me like a dog, Daniel. Beg me for your son’s life, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll throw you the bone."
Daniel looked at Mason. The boy’s lips were turning blue. The red digital timer read: *05:12.*
Every ounce of Daniel’s pride, every drop of his Vance aristocratic lineage, burned to ash. For his son, he would walk through hell barefoot.
Daniel dropped his Glock onto the concrete. It slid away with a harsh clatter.
He bent his knees. He lowered himself onto the cold, wet concrete.
Julian threw his head back and laughed—a sound of supreme, vindictive triumph. "Yes! Look at the mighty Daniel Vance! The king of Wall Street! Crawling in the dirt!"
Daniel crawled forward, one agonizing foot at a time, his eyes fixed on the glass vial in Julian’s hand.
*04:30.*
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"Good boy," Julian purred, raising his rifle, aiming it directly at Daniel’s forehead. "Now, stay right there while I watch the light leave your eyes."
Julian squeezed the trigger.
