18. Darkness Descends
Chapter eighteen
Darkness Descends
L ucas
I paused outside the bright windows of the corner coffee shop, scanning the interior.
Just a handful of late night patrons absorbed in their devices or newspapers. No sign of my contact yet.
Adjusting the baseball cap lower over my eyes, I slipped inside and grabbed an empty booth in the back. A waitress came by, pad in hand.
"Just coffee. Black," I murmured without looking up. She returned swiftly with a steaming mug.
I wrapped my hands around it, eyes never stopping their casual sweep.
The bell on the door jingled as a bulky, bearded man entered.
Jack Burrows, my informant. I watched discreetly as he ordered at the counter, then made his way toward my table.
"Evening," Jack said gruffly as he sat down. His fingers drummed the tabletop anxiously.
"Let's make this quick," I replied. "You mentioned evidence against Dvorak?"
Jack nodded, eyes darting around. "Yes, Bruno’s boss. I got wind of some major shipments coming in for him. Artifacts, drugs, guns—you name it. And guess what? I was able to get some evidence that he had Bruno-”
He ran a finger across his throat. I got the message.
He slid a flash drive across the table. "Proof of his smuggling operation. Client lists, bank records, everything you need to nail him."
I pocketed the drive, senses on high alert. "Useful intel. And you're sure it's solid?"
"As a damn diamond," Jack said. "I'm through being their lapdog. After what happened to Bruno, none of us are safe. Time for me to disappear."
Something seemed off in his mannerisms. I glanced casually around the shop again.
A man sitting alone was staring too intently at his crossword puzzle. And the woman sipping coffee had the hard-eyed look of muscle.
My instincts screamed trap. Emelia was right. This had been too easy.
I stood abruptly, tipping over the table as a distraction. Jack pulled out his gun and aimed at me, his action confirming my suspicions. I kicked the weapon out of his hand and bolted for the door.
The woman whipped out a gun, firing shots over the other patrons' panicked screams.
Adrenaline surging, I toppled tables behind me and hurdled over the counter.
A man appeared at the door, blocking my path. Patrons ran toward him trying to get out, blocking his path and slowing him down.
Shattering the front window with my elbow as more shots whizzed past, I flew through it and hit the pavement running, rounds striking the brick walls around me.
Ducking into an alley, I ripped open the flash drive—no chip inside, just as I'd expected.
Furious at the betrayal but needing to get clear, I melted into the crowds and disappeared down the subway stairs.
Keeping my head down, I quickened my pace—I needed to get off the grid after the ambush and return to the apartment.
Thank God Emelia was back there, safe and sound.
I froze, then whirled around, muscles tensing for a fight. Was that Emelia I heard calling my name?
But then I saw her—Emelia across the street with what seemed like an endless sea of people and countless NYC cabs between us.
I rushed forward, pushing people aside, trying to get to her. But then she mouthed ‘I’ll find you’ and disappeared into the crowd.
“Emelia, no. Wait!”
My heart pounded with fear as I watched six heavy men sprint down the chaotic city streets in the direction I’d just seen her run.
I ran after them as fast as I could. Emelia was out here somewhere, in danger. I never should have believed she’d actually stay back at the apartment.
The crowds jostled me as I frantically scanned for any sign of her.
Where could she be? What had made her leave the apartment? I cursed myself for not insisting she stay put.
Ahead, raised voices and shouts echoed from an alley.
I raced toward the commotion, shoving people aside.
Bursting into the alley, I saw them—the thugs from the coffee shop, flanked by Dvorak’s men.
“Where is she?” I yelled, grabbing one goon by the collar. Before he could respond, a crushing blow struck the back of my head.
My vision went spotted. I lashed out blindly but was overwhelmed as more men swarmed me.
They forced a hood over my head and bound my wrists. I struggled furiously but went limp as a needle pierced my neck, my mind fuzzing over.
As everything faded away, all I could think of was Emelia was still out there, in their crosshairs. I had failed her.
I wasn’t sure for how long I was out, but intolerable agony coursed through me as I came to, my head throbbing.
I blinked, taking in the dark stone walls of some kind of dungeon cell. Iron shackles bound my wrists and ankles.
The events leading up to my capture flickered back. The coffee shop, the ambush, being drugged and thrown into a van. Emelia. Oh my God, was she alright?
Now I was imprisoned, but where? And did they have Emelia too?
A heavy door creaked open and two armed guards entered, followed by a man I had never seen before but whom I instinctively recognized: Antonin Dvorak. He was a well-groomed man, tall with not a hair out of place or a wrinkle on this suit. Yet in his eyes, one could see that this was a man who lived his life making decisions that cost others theirs.
His mouth curled into a sinister smile. "I’m getting sick of you, Thorne. But tonight I will finally be rid of you and your-"
I strained against the chains in fury. "If you hurt her—"
Bruno waved a dismissive hand. "She slipped away in the commotion. But we'll find her—rest assured."
Thank God. They didn’t have her. Emelia was still out there, hopefully safe back at the apartment. I instantly began to breathe better.
If it were possible, his smile turned colder. "In the meantime, I think a demonstration of what I am capable of is in order."
Before I could react, white-hot agony lashed across my back.
One of the guards had unfurled a whip and struck me brutally. I bit back a cry as the whip came down again and again.
Through the haze of pain, I focused on Emelia, using the details of her face as my lifeline.
She was still free. I had to endure long enough to ensure she got away or die protecting her the only way I could right now.
After what felt like endless strikes, the whipping ceased. I fell forward, exhausted.
Bruno grabbed my bloodied chin, forcing my eyes on him. "This is just a taste. Unless you give up the painting's location."
I gathered the blood in my mouth and spat it in his face.
Dvorak's eyes flashed with rage. He nodded to the guards who proceeded to beat me mercilessly with batons.
I retreated deep into myself, willing my mind away from the abuse.
If this was to be my end, at least Emelia and our unborn child might still have a chance. That hope kept me breathing.
When the guards finally left, I sagged limply in my chains, letting the darkness take away any consciousness and replace it with relief.
I jerked awake at the sound of approaching footsteps. Two of Dvorak's thugs stormed in and roughly unchained me from the wall.
"On your feet," one growled, shoving me forward. I gritted my teeth against the blooming pain and shuffled along.
They led me back to Dvorak's office and forced me into a chair opposite his imposing desk.
Dvorak leaned back, steepled his fingers, and smiled coldly.
"I hope you've reconsidered sharing the painting's location. Otherwise, your dear Emelia may soon meet an unfortunate and slow end."
I took a deep breath. I had to buy her time, no matter the cost. "Call your men off. I'll take you to the trove. The painting led us to treasure even you won’t believe existed."
Dvorak raised an eyebrow. "The legendary treasure? If the treasure exists, then surely the power also is true.” His face hardened. “I'm not interested in babe’s delights. I want real power—the secret to immortality your painting supposedly unlocks."
I met his gaze unflinchingly. We hadn’t figured out how to unlock the power, or even if there was such power, but I wasn’t about to let Bruno know that. "Then it’s yours if you leave Emelia alone. You'll never age another day." I injected conviction into the lie.
Greed flickered in Dvorak's eyes, but he scoffed. "So that old tale your parents and Professor King swore about is real?"
I felt like slapping his face for even mentioning my parents or Emelia’s father’s name.
They had been honorable people who had died for a cause they believed in.
Dvorak was a greedy, low life opportunist and I would make sure he spent the rest of his life behind bars.
Hiding my anger, I looked at Dvorak coolly. In a calculated gamble, I doubled down. "Test me then. I've solved its every layer. The painting bestows eternal life on those who unlock its deepest meaning."
Dvorak backhanded me across the face, hard, causing my head to crack sharply sideways. "You're wasting my time. Unless you produce this miraculous painting, your beloved dies at dawn."
Blood dripping from my mouth, I slumped in defeat.
Dvorak only cared about exploiting power for himself, no matter who suffered. I had to protect Emelia, whatever it took.
"Wait. Okay, okay," I said hoarsely. "Call off your men. I swear I'll take you there right now if you guarantee Emelia's safety."
Dvorak regarded me shrewdly, then picked up a phone and dialed. "Stand down from the woman and wait for my orders. I'm retrieving the package personally." He hung up. "Take me to the painting. Now."
I’d never heard anyone’s voice so cold or hard. Throwing him in a maximum detention prison would be the highlight at the end of this whole thing.
Flanked by armed guards, I was loaded into an SUV. As we navigated the city streets, I tracked our route, memorizing landmarks.
I had no intention of leading them anywhere. But I needed them to believe I was compliant a bit longer.
The car rolled to a stop at an empty construction site. "Get out," Dvorak ordered.
As I stepped into the cold night air, I sensed my moment. I threw my elbow back, slamming it into a guard's throat.
As he choked and staggered, I grabbed his gun and swung it at Dvorak's head before he could react.
Chaos erupted. I edged behind Dvorak, using his body as a shield.
Knowing they wouldn’t fire at their boss, I shot at the remaining guards' feet, driving them back.
When I was close enough to take cover behind machinery, I shoved Dvorak aside and dived behind it.
Bullets ricocheted all around, but miraculously none found their mark.
There—an opening. I made a run for it, sprinting into the cover of buildings and losing my pursuers in the maze of alleys.
It was a reckless escape, but I had done it. Now to find Emelia before Dvorak's men recovered.
Heart pounding, I hot-wired a parked car and sped into the streets.
I parked the stolen car a few blocks from Emelia’s apartment and approached on foot, sticking to the shadows.
The pre-dawn streets were silent and empty—too empty. My instincts screamed that something was off. I prayed Emelia was alright.
I paused outside the building's rear entrance, listening intently. No sound from within. I crept inside, senses on high alert.
The stairwell loomed pitch black. I climbed it swiftly but cautiously, every sense at alert. I took the elevator until it was a few floors from ours.
Then I walked the rest of the way. Reaching our floor, I inched down the hall. Still no sign of life.
At the door, I paused, steeling myself.
“Please be here”, I prayed.
Then I punched in the codes, placing my palm over the scanner. The door slid open and I ran in, checking every room.
“Emelia,” I called, but my voice was barely a whisper. Silence answered me back.
The apartment was exactly the way I’d left it, down to the cups we’d used for breakfast. Only difference was Emelia. Gone.
No blood that I could see, but no sign of Emelia either. My heart seized. Had I been too late?
There was no time, I had to find her.
Approaching our door, I heard the unmistakable sound of multiple footsteps coming up the hall.
I flattened myself against the wall just as two armed men came into view—both with snake tattoos coiled around their necks. The same men from Prague.
My pulse racing, I realized I was trapped in the hallway as the men drew nearer. Think, Lucas! I needed a diversion.
I unscrewed the cap of the fire sprinkler on the ceiling and wrapped my jacket around my fist.
The men were mere feet away when I smashed the sprinkler at hard as I could.
Alarm bells rang out immediately as water rained down. The men cried out in surprise, barreling past me toward the apartment door. I ducked into the stairwell unnoticed in the chaos.
Now to get downstairs. The elevators would be shut down due to the alarm. I descended two flights and pried open the elevator doors with the knife I pulled from under my sole, grateful for the elevator's halted position.
Bracing myself, I leapt across the narrow gap to the neighboring elevator car below.
I repeated this dangerous maneuver several times before reaching the last ten floors. I took the emergency stairs from there.
Soaking wet but unseen, I exited the stairwell and made my way to the parking garage. The alarm had provided the necessary diversion, but I still had to find Emelia before Dvorak's men did.
I needed to lay low and figure out my next move.
Slipping through backstreets, I made it to one of several safe houses I kept across New York.
Each of them was equipped with everything I’d need if I wanted to either disappear for a month, for a few months or leave the country immediately.
Once inside, I turned on police scanners, listening for any updates.
"Suspects fled the scene... witnesses reporting heavily armed men with distinguishable snake tattoos on their necks. It is believed these men may be members of a mob…."
My blood ran cold. Those thugs had been searching for me and Emelia. I slammed my fist onto the table in frustration.
We’d stayed at Emelia’s apartment because it was more secure than the best bank vaults in New York.
Now it was compromised and it was only a matter of time before those goons found a way in.
Day bled into night as I agonized over what to do next. I had to find Emelia before Bruno's men did. But I had no leads and couldn't risk exposing myself.
Wracking my mind, I tried to get inside Dvorak's head, predict his next moves.
If he was the one pulling Bruno’s strings, his MO would not be much different.
Dvorak would use every resource he had to find the painting, while keeping an iron grip on the city's underworld. He had eyes everywhere.
But so did I. It was time to call in favors from every contact, snitch, and lookout I knew. Cash in every chip to get intel on Emelia.
As long as she was out there, I would stop at nothing to ensure her safety.
Our lives had become a labyrinth of lies, betrayal, and constant vigilance. But what I felt for her was real.
For the first time, something mattered more to me than the thrill of a successful heist.
The phone rang suddenly—an unknown number. I answered cautiously, my gut tightening.
The distorted voice on the other end uttered a single sentence that turned my blood to ice:
"Check the basement."