Chapter 17: Descent into Hell
The concrete stairwell was pitch black, illuminated only by the frantic, sweeping beams of the security team’s tactical flashlights.
Marcus took the stairs two at a time, his arms locked like steel bands around his wife. The physical exertion was monumental. Fifty floors. Over a thousand steps. But Marcus didn’t stop. He didn't slow down. Every time his muscles screamed in agony, he looked down at Khloe’s pale face resting against his chest, and his resolve hardened into diamond.
“Marcus… you have to put me down,” Khloe whispered around the thirtieth floor, feeling the heavy, rapid thumping of his heart against her cheek. “You can’t make it all the way.”
“I’m not putting you down,” Marcus gritted out, sweat pouring down his face, soaking his expensive dress shirt. “I am never putting you down again.”
At the twentieth floor, Khloe groaned, clutching her stomach. A sharp, familiar pain radiated through her abdomen. It wasn’t a kick this time. It was a cramp.
“Khloe?” Marcus stopped on the landing, sheer terror flashing in his eyes.
“It’s cramping,” she gasped, tears finally leaking from her eyes. “Marcus, the baby.”
“We’re almost there. Just hold on. Please, God, just hold on,” Marcus pleaded, adjusting his grip and resuming his descent at a reckless, terrifying speed.
By the time they burst through the fire doors into the ground-floor lobby, the scene was one of absolute chaos.
Police cruisers, fire engines, and ambulances had surrounded the building. Red and blue lights strobed through the glass walls of the lobby. Outside, on the cordoned-off pavement, a white tarp had already been hastily thrown over the twisted, broken body of Isabella Rossi.
Dr. Richard Vance was sprinting through the lobby doors, a trauma team right on his heels.
“Over here!” Marcus roared, bursting out of the stairwell and gently laying Khloe onto the approaching gurney. His arms felt like lead, his chest heaving so violently he could barely speak. “She’s cramping, Richard. The carbon monoxide… the stress…”
“We’ve got her, Marcus,” Richard said, instantly hooking Khloe up to a portable oxygen tank and checking her pulse. “Get her in the ambulance! We’re going to the underground secure wing at St. Jude’s.”
As the paramedics wheeled Khloe toward the doors, she reached out, her fingers weakly grasping Marcus’s blood-stained sleeve.
Marcus immediately knelt beside the moving gurney, taking her hand. “I’m right here. I’m right behind you.”
“Marcus,” Khloe whispered, her eyes locking onto his. The fear was gone. In its place was a cold, terrifying clarity. “Silas did this. He tried to kill our baby.”
“I know,” Marcus said, his voice dropping to a lethal octave.
“You said you used to be a monster,” Khloe breathed, her grip tightening on his hand with surprising strength. “Be one tonight. End him. Because if you don’t, I swear to God, I will take this baby and disappear to somewhere you will never find us.”
Marcus stared at his wife. He didn't see the fragile woman who had been kicked in a hospital suite. He saw a queen demanding the head of her enemy.
Marcus pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her knuckles.
“Consider it done,” he promised.
May you like
He stood up, watching the ambulance doors slam shut and speed off into the night. When Marcus turned around to face Miller and his security team, the billionaire was gone. The apex predator had been unleashed.
“Miller,” Marcus said, his voice as cold as absolute zero. “Get the helicopters fueled. We’re going hunting.”
