Chapter 6 - The Confession of a Best FriendI glared at Alan, the betrayal burning hotter than any physical torture Julian could inflict.
"You watched me mourn my wife," I said, my voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly register. "You sat at my kitchen table, drank my whiskey, and listened to me talk about how much I loved my daughter. How could you do this, Alan?"
Alan looked down at the syringe in his hand, a flicker of genuine discomfort crossing his features before hardening back into professional detachment.
"Because you live in black-and-white, Richard," Alan replied quietly. "You see the world through the lens of heroes and villains, right and wrong, orders and disobedience. But the real world is grey. It’s run by money, power, and survival. Julian offered me a partnership in a medical enterprise that will revolutionize neurology. What did you offer me? A front-row seat to your lonely retirement."
"And Emily?" I demanded, my eyes flashing with fury. "What was her role in your grand enterprise? Did she deserve to have a warning carved into her skin?"
Julian stepped forward, waving a dismissive hand.
"That was David’s theatrical flair," Julian said with a note of mild annoyance. "My son has always been a bit... dramatic. He wanted to send a message to you, Richard. He wanted you to feel the helplessness of losing everything you love before we finish the job."
"Where is David right now?" I asked, my voice chillingly calm as I focused all my energy on my right wrist, subtly grinding the nylon zip-tie against the sharp, jagged edge of the steel pipe behind me. Friction. Pressure. Cut.
"My son is at St. Mary’s Hospital," Julian smiled, checking his watch. "Right now, finishing what we started. With Emily recovering in isolation and Alan missing from the floor, David has free access to the trauma ward. By morning, your daughter will have suffered a tragic, accidental cardiac arrest."
My heart stopped.
Emily.
They were going to kill her.
I ignored the searing pain as the plastic zip-tie finally bit through my skin and grated against bone. One more hard yank. One more surge of adrenaline.
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"You're too late to stop it, Richard," Julian turned toward the table, picking up a detonator-style tablet device. "And now, it’s time for you to take a long, permanent sleep. Just like the official reports said twenty-five years ago."
Alan stepped closer with the syringe, raising his arm. "Don't fight it, Richard. It's painless."
