They all said I'd waste my time... that the man in the wheelchair was beyond saving

The rain soaked through my clothes within seconds, turning the forest floor into a slippery, muddy trap. I carried Oliver in my arms, my lungs burning, my feet sliding in the dark as I pushed through the thick brush. Behind us, the beams of flashlights cut through the rain, and the barking of tactical hounds echoed through the trees.

We reached the estate's outer perimeter fence. I found a gap where a fallen tree branch had bent the chain-link wire, and squeezed Oliver through first before crawling under it myself, tearing my jacket on the sharp metal.

We were on a dark, deserted country road. A black sedan sat idling by the side of the road, its headlights cut to low beams.

My heart leaped into my throat. Was it Vance's men?

The car door threw itself open. Gabriel stepped out into the rain, holding a massive assault rifle, his face wild with anxiety. "Clare! Get in! Now!"

I didn't hesitate. I threw Oliver into the back seat and scrambled in beside him. Gabriel slammed the door, hit the gas, and the sedan roared down the highway, spraying gravel into the darkness.

"How did you know?" I gasped, trying to catch my breath while wrapping a warm blanket around a shivering Oliver.

"Sebastian realized the meeting was a setup the moment Vance showed up with thirty armed men instead of his usual crew," Gabriel said, glancing at us through the rearview mirror. "Vance cut the estate's phone lines. Sebastian ordered me to break through their perimeter and get to you. He knew Vance would try to take you as leverage."

"Where is Sebastian?" I asked, my voice rising with panic. "Is he still at the meeting?"

Gabriel’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. "He stayed behind at the Lakefront Warehouse with four men to hold Vance's crew off. He knew if he tried to retreat, Vance would surround the estate before I could get you out."

"He sacrificed his own position to buy us time," I realized, a sickening wave of dread washing over me. "Gabriel, we have to go back for him!"

"My orders are to take you and the boy to a safehouse in Indiana," Gabriel snapped.

"He can't walk, Gabriel!" I yelled, leaning forward over the front seat. "If Vance disarms his guards, Sebastian is trapped! He won't survive the night! Turn this car around!"

Gabriel looked at me in the mirror. He saw the fierce, unyielding light in my eyes—the same stubborn resolve that had forced Sebastian Lombardi to submit to my therapy hands.

With a harsh curse, Gabriel slammed on the brakes, spun the wheel, and executed a violent J-turn in the middle of the empty highway. "If we die tonight, Sebastian will kill me himself," Gabriel muttered, stomping on the accelerator.

Twenty minutes later, the sedan pulled into the industrial district along the shores of Lake Michigan. The Lakefront Warehouse stood like a rusted giant against the black water, surrounded by a dozen dark vehicles.

Gunfire echoed inside the structure—sharp, metallic pops cutting through the sound of crashing waves.

Gabriel parked behind an abandoned shipping container and pulled two pistols from the glove box, tossing a heavy tactical vest into my lap. "Put this on. Stay behind me. If things go bad, grab the boy and run for the water."

We crept through a broken side door into the massive, echoing interior of the warehouse. Towering stacks of shipping crates created a labyrinth of steel walls. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, copper, and salt water.

From the central catwalk, I saw the confrontation unfolding.

Sebastian sat in his titanium wheelchair in the center of the concrete floor, surrounded by three of his remaining loyal guards. They were heavily outgunned. Marcus Vance stood twenty feet away, backed by over twenty heavily armed mercenaries holding rifles aimed directly at Sebastian's head.

"It's over, Sebastian!" Vance shouted, his slick voice echoing off the corrugated iron walls. "Your guards at the estate have already secured the girl and the kid. You have no leverage left. Sign the asset transfer documents for the docks, or I end your reign right here."

Sebastian sat upright in his chair. Despite being surrounded by men with guns, his face was a mask of utter stone. He slowly raised his glass of whiskey—which he had somehow brought with him—and took a quiet sip.

"You always were an impatient fool, Marcus," Sebastian said calmly. "You thought taking my legs twenty years ago would make you the king. But you forgot one thing."