Chapter 8 - The Meatpacking Plant
The icy wind howled through the shattered windows of the abandoned meatpacking facility on 47th Street. Rusting steel hooks hung from overhead conveyor rails, swaying gently in the shadows like macabre pendulums.
I stepped through the broken industrial doorway, clutching a sleek black duffel bag against my chest. Inside was the encrypted hard drive containing Voss Holdings' shipping routes—and beneath the false lining, a military-grade transponder pulsing a live satellite beacon directly to Adrien’s tactical unit.
My breath came in ragged, white plumes. The temperature inside the derelict warehouse was below freezing.
“Over here, sweetheart,” a voice sneered from the darkness.
Four armed men stepped out from behind a row of rusted refrigeration units, their assault rifles aimed squarely at my chest.
Behind them, illuminated by a single halogen work light, sat Julian Moretti—a slick, arrogant man in his late forties, wearing a coyote-fur trimmed coat. And tied to a wooden chair beside him, wrapped in a thin hospital blanket, was my mother.
“Mom!” I cried, taking a step forward.
“Sophie…” Helen rasped, her lips blue, her breathing shallow and wheezing without her supplemental oxygen tank. “Run… baby, please, run…”
A man stepped out from the shadows behind Moretti, holding a wicked steel crowbar.
My stomach churned in disgust.
It was Daniel Mercer.
“Well, well,” Daniel sneered, his face bruised from what looked like a recent street mugging, his eyes gleaming with deranged, vindictive triumph. “Look who finally traded her apron for a designer coat. Did you think you could destroy my life and walk away with Voss’s billions, you little bitch?”
“You sold out to Moretti,” I spat, glaring at him with pure hatred. “You pathetic parasite.”
Daniel lunged forward, raising his hand to strike me, but Moretti raised a finger, halting him.
“Patience, Daniel,” Moretti chuckled, rising from his folding chair. He walked toward me, his expensive boots crunching on broken glass. “The drive, Miss Carter. Place it on the table.”
I set the black duffel bag on a rusted metal workbench, keeping my body positioned between Moretti’s men and my mother.
“Let her go first,” I demanded, keeping my voice firm despite the icy fear clawing at my throat. “She can barely breathe. If she dies, the biometric failsafe on that drive triggers, and the data wipes itself permanently.”
Moretti paused, his eyes narrowing. “You’re lying.”
“Try me,” I bluffed, mimicking Adrien’s icy cadence with every shred of courage I possessed. “Adrien Voss didn't build an empire by trusting people. You think he’d send me here without a digital leash? Let my mother walk out to the waiting cab down the street, or you get an encrypted brick of useless silicon.”
Moretti stared at me for three agonizing seconds. Then he gave a dismissive flick of his wrist to one of his guards. “Cut the old woman loose. Escort her to the front gate. If the drive is legitimate, she lives. If not, we run them both down in the alley.”
Daniel looked enraged. “Mr. Moretti, no! She’s playing you!”
“Shut up, Mercer!” Moretti barked. “I don't need advice from a disgraced restaurant manager.”
The guard sliced the zip-ties around Helen’s wrists. I rushed forward, catching my mother as she slumped forward out of the chair.
“Sophie…” she wept into my shoulder, her body frail and shivering. “I’m so sorry…”
“Shh, Mom. Listen to me,” I whispered rapidly into her ear as I helped her stand. “Walk toward the street. There is a black van waiting two blocks south. Don't look back. Just walk.”
I handed her off to the guard, watching with an aching heart as she was led toward the cracked exit doors. The moment the outer door closed behind her, a wave of profound relief washed over me.
She was out. She had a fighting chance.
Moretti unzipped the bag, pulled out the sleek drive, and plugged it into a ruggedized field laptop resting on the workbench. The screen flickered green.
*ACCESS GRANTED. DECRYPTING VOSS LOGISTICS MANIFESTS.*
Moretti’s face lit up with greedy triumph. “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. The entire riverfront is mine.”
Daniel stepped forward, grinning like a hyena. “And what about her, Mr. Moretti? Can I finish her?”
Moretti didn't even look up from the screen. “Do whatever you want with her, Daniel. Just make sure the body ends up in the furnace.”
Daniel raised the crowbar, a sickening sneer contorting his face. “Losing my job over twelve dollars, huh? Let’s see what twelve dollars buys you in hell—”
Suddenly, the screen on the laptop didn't show shipping manifests.
The green text turned blood-red.
A single line of text appeared in the center of the display:
*LOOK UP.*
May you like
A deafening explosion blew the reinforced skylights inward, showering the warehouse in a hail of glass, concrete dust, and blinding white flashbang light.
***
