Chapter 8 - The Observatory at MidnightThe abandoned Chicago Observatory loomed against the ink-black sky like a gothic cathedral dedicated to forgotten stars. Its massive copper dome was rusted green, and the winding stone steps leading to the main entrance were slick with freezing mist.
Dominic’s SUV slid to a halt fifty yards from the iron gates.
"Stay in the car, Evelyn," Dominic said, checking the magazine of his pistol.
Evelyn reached across the console and unbuckled her own seatbelt, grabbing a heavy iron wrench from the floorboard.
"I am not a hostage to be rescued, Dominic," she said flatly, stepping out into the freezing wind. "That is my family’s crest on that note. Which means this is my debt to settle as much as yours."
Dominic looked at her for a long moment, then nodded once.
Together, they walked up the stone steps, shoulder to shoulder, two apex predators entering a trap knowing full baby-steps into the jaws of the beast.
The heavy oak doors of the observatory creaked open.
Inside, the cavernous central hall was lit only by moonlight streaming through the shattered glass of the dome above. In the center of the room, beneath the skeleton of a massive telescope, stood a single mahogany chair.
Tied securely to the chair was little Noah, sleeping peacefully, wrapped in a blue blanket.
Standing behind the chair, holding a silver-barreled revolver to the baby’s temple, was an older man with silver hair and immaculate tailoring—Arthur Hart, Evelyn’s uncle.
Beside him stood Mara, no longer wearing her maid's apron, but dressed in a sleek black tactical suit, her expression smug and triumphant.
"Welcome, nephew-in-law," Arthur Hart smiled, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "And welcome, niece. I must admit, I underestimated you both. I didn't think you’d figure out the hemlock so quickly, Evelyn."
Evelyn stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "It takes a professional to recognize poison, Uncle. Something you taught me yourself."
"Ah, yes," Arthur chuckled, stepping closer to the baby. "The brilliant surgeon who couldn't keep her mouth shut. If you had just signed those medical reports in Chicago, none of this would have been necessary. But you had to play the hero. Just like your father."
Dominic raised his pistol, aiming directly at Arthur’s chest. "Let the boy go. Your quarrel is with me."
"Is it, Dominic?" Arthur smiled coldly. "You think you control Chicago? You and your brother built your empire on stolen shipping routes that belonged to the Hart family. Julian understood that. That's why he was planning to hand the whole operation over to us before the 'accident' six months ago."
Dominic’s eyes widened. "You killed my brother."
"We gave him a choice," Arthur replied smoothly. "He refused. So we rearranged his car. And tonight, we finish the bloodline. Once the boy is gone, the Vale empire reverts to your grieving fiancée—who, as it turns out, will be executed by my operatives for the murder of her own nephew."
Arthur cocked the hammer of his revolver.
Mara smiled, stepping forward to take the gun from Arthur’s hand. "Allow me, Mr. Hart. I’ve wanted to finish this job all evening."
Dominic tensed, his finger tightening on the trigger—
Thwack.
A sudden, sickening sound echoed through the observatory.
Mara froze.
Her eyes widened in absolute shock. She looked down at her chest. Protruding from her sternum was the gleaming, silver handle of a surgical scalpel.
Mara staggered backward, dropping her weapon, and collapsed onto the cold stone floor, motionless.
Arthur gasped, whipping his head around. "What—?"
May you like
Evelyn stood with her arm still extended, having thrown the scalpel with surgical, deadly precision from twenty paces away.
"You always were clumsy with your instruments, Mara," Evelyn whispered coldly.
