Chapter 6 - The Race Against the ClockFour minutes and twelve seconds.
I didn't care about the jet anymore. I didn't care about the money, the corporate shares, or Vivienne’s betrayal. All of that dissolved into static electricity as my thumb tapped the GPS pin on my phone, routing the vehicle's navigation system directly to the coordinates in the Northwoods reserve.
“Get me a state police chopper with explosive ordinance disposal on standby,” I shouted at the terminal manager as I sprinted back toward the Land Rover. “Now!”
“Sir, weather’s grounding all non-essential air traffic within a twenty-mile radius of the reserve! Heavy fog and freezing rain!”
“Then clear a path on the highway!”
I threw the SUV into gear, the tires screaming against the wet tarmac as I fishtailed out of the Midway lot, cutting across three lanes of commuter traffic with the horn blaring.
My phone was mounted to the dash, the countdown timer ticking down in glowing red digits.
03:45... 03:44... 03:43...
The navigation voice chimed with robotic cheerfulness: “In five hundred feet, turn right onto Forest Service Road 12. Destination is on your left.”
The highway blurred into a gray smear of asphalt and pine trees. The rain turned to sleet, lashing against the windshield like handfuls of gravel. The Land Rover’s all-wheel-drive system fought for traction as I took a ninety-degree turn off the paved highway onto a rutted, mud-choked logging trail that wound deep into the heart of the state park.
Branches whipped against the sides of the vehicle with deafening cracks.
01:50... 01:49...
If Marcus and Elena thought they could leave me a parting gift like this and walk away clean, they severely underestimated the monster they had unmasked. They hadn't just stolen from me; they had calculated the exact emotional breaking point required to shatter my composure.
01:15...
I slammed on the brakes, throwing the car into a skid across the muddy clearing. The heavy steel gate of the disused forestry outpost blocked the path. I didn't hesitate—I hammered the accelerator, driving the Land Rover straight through the rusted iron hinges, sending the gate crashing into the underbrush.
There.
Under the canopy of ancient oaks, a heavy concrete utility marker protruded from the mud.
And beside it, a massive mound of black fur.
I leaped out of the car before it had even fully stopped, slipping and falling hard into the freezing mud, scrambling back to my feet, and sprinting the final thirty yards through the freezing downpour.
“Bruno!”
The mastiff didn’t move.
I dropped to my knees in the dirt beside him. His massive chest rose and fell in a slow, shallow rhythm. He was alive, but barely—he had been heavily sedated with veterinary-grade tranquilizers.
Wrapped tightly around his thick neck was a heavy industrial chain, secured by a solid brass combination padlock. And wired directly into the clasp of the chain was a compact commercial-grade demolition charge, its digital LED screen pulsing a sickly amber glow.
00:28... 00:27...
“Damn it, damn it!” I cursed, my bare hands clawing desperately at the cold metal chain, trying to find slack.
There was no slack. The chain was cinched so tight it was cutting into his thick fur. I reached for my pocket knife, but a wire-cutter wouldn't slice through high-tensile steel cable.
00:15... 00:14...
I pressed my hands against Bruno’s heavy head, burying my face in his damp fur. “Wake up, big guy. Please. Wake up.”
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The digital display blinked amber, then shifted to a solid, terrifying red.
00:03... 00:02...
