Chapter 2 - The Crimson CeilingWhile Nathaniel’s tactical team descended on the industrial yards, the medical helicopter touched down on the roof of our decaying apartment building at 214 Aldridge Street. The rotors whipped the dirty city air into a frenzy, blowing litter across the cracked pavement as the paramedics rushed stretcher equipment through the rotting front doors.
I sat in the back of Nathaniel’s private Maybach as it sped through the streets, siren wailing, escorted by two black security cruisers. Nathaniel sat beside me, holding my small, calloused hand in his large, warm palm.
"We're almost there, Ruby," he whispered, staring intently out the window.
When the car screeched to a halt outside our building, the front door was wide open. The paramedics were already wheeling my mother down the narrow, dimly lit hallway.
"Mom!" I screamed, breaking away from Nathaniel and sprinting toward the stretcher.
Her face was as pale as old paper. Her breathing was shallow, a faint, ragged rattle that tore at my heart. Her eyes were half-open, glazed and distant.
"Ruby..." she whispered, her voice barely a breath. "The... the box..."
"I know, Mom. Mr. Graves—he’s here. He’s my grandfather. He’s going to fix everything."
For a split second, a look of pure terror flashed across my mother's face. She tried to lift her hand, but her arm dropped limply against the blanket. "No... Malcolm... he knows..."
"She’s going into respiratory arrest!" the lead paramedic shouted, lifting the stretcher into the back of the waiting ambulance. "Move, move, move!"
Nathaniel caught up to us, his face dark with fury as he surveyed the ransacked apartment. The door was splintered off its hinges. Drawers had been pulled out and dumped onto the worn linoleum floor. Every photograph of me, every old school drawing pinned to the refrigerator, had been ripped away and stolen.
Except for one.
May you like
As Nathaniel stepped inside, his shoe crunched on something metallic near the baseboard. He knelt and picked it up. It was a small, silver locket, tarnished with age. He popped it open. Inside was a tiny picture of a young Elena Graves smiling brightly at the camera, long before the rivers, the blood, and the lies tore her world apart.
"They didn't just want the trust," Nathaniel muttered, clenching the locket in his fist. "They wanted to erase her completely."
