Chapter 8 - The Sparks of Rebellion
Leo pretended to struggle with the pen, allowing his hand to shake violently to draw Julian's attention away from his feet.
"Hurry up, boy!" Julian snapped, leaning down close to inspect the signature line. "I don't have all night!"
"My hand... it's stiff," Leo mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut as if in deep pain.
"Hold his arm steady, Vance," Julian ordered, annoyed.
Vance stepped away from Wren for a fraction of a second, reaching down to grab Leo's wrist.
That fraction of a second was all Wren needed.
With a burst of hidden energy, Wren slammed her elbow backward into the second guard's ribs, snatched a heavy metal wrench from a nearby tool rack, and swung it with all her strength into Vance's knee.
CRACK!
Vance screamed, collapsing to the floor.
"What?!" Julian yelled, turning his gun toward Wren.
"Now, Leo!" Wren screamed.
Leo didn't think. He didn't hesitate. Guided by pure, unadulterated adrenaline and the burning fire in his restored nerves, Leo planted his feet onto the cold concrete floor—and stood up.
Clara gasped, dropping to her knees in shock. "Leo?!"
Julian’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he stared at his crippled nephew, standing tall on his own two feet for the first time in two years.
Leo didn't just stand. He drove his shoulder directly into Julian's chest with all the weight of his body.
The sudden impact sent Julian flying backward into a stack of heavy wooden crates. The gun flew from his hand, skidding across the slippery floor right to Wren's feet.
Wren snatched the pistol up instantly, racking the slide back and aiming it straight at Julian's head.
"Nobody move!" Wren shouted, her voice echoing like thunder through the warehouse.
The remaining guards froze, looking at the girl holding the gun, then at Vance groaning on the floor, and finally at Leo Sterling—who was standing, unsteady but triumphant, holding onto his mother's chair for support.
"You..." Julian stammered, scrambling backward against the broken crates, his face twisted in absolute terror. "You can't walk... it's impossible!"
"My mother built this empire, Julian," Leo said, his voice dropping into a deep, authoritative tone that sounded terrifyingly like his late father's. "And you thought you could steal it with a bottle of poison and a few lies."
Outside, the loud, wailing sirens of dozens of police cars shattered the night air.
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Flashing red and blue lights illuminated the frosted glass windows of the warehouse as armored vehicles smashed through the outer chain-link gates.
Doc had survived the earlier attack. And he hadn't just called the local police—he had called the Federal Bureau of Investigation, handing over two years of medical records, financial statements, and video evidence of Clara's abduction.
