Chapter 13 - The Shadow of the Grizzly
Z
The two armed guards stepped forward, closing the distance between us in the narrow, claustrophobic boiler room. I backed up until my shoulders slammed against the concrete wall, clutching the pelican case so tight my knuckles turned white.
"Don't do this, Dr. Pendelton," I pleaded, my heart hammering like a trapped bird. "The FBI already knows about the syndicate! Wade Holden—"
"Wade Holden is dead on a porch in Oregon, Sarah," Pendelton interrupted coldly, pulling a small, silenced pistol from his coat pocket. "My associates in the cartel took care of that loose end twenty minutes ago. No one is coming to save you."
Tears overflowed my eyes, burning down my cold cheeks. Wade is dead. The thought felt like a physical blade thrust into my heart. The giant who had given everything to save an innocent life had died alone in the dark.
"Hand it over," the guard on the left demanded, reaching out with a leather-gloved hand to snatch the case.
Suddenly, a terrifyingly familiar sound echoed through the concrete stairwell outside the boiler room.
It wasn't a gunshot. It wasn't a police siren.
It was the heavy, rhythmic, bone-chilling thump of steel-toed combat boots stepping slowly across the concrete floor.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. The two guards froze, their heads snapping toward the dark doorway. Pendelton raised his firearm, his hands suddenly trembling.
"Who's there?!" Pendelton shouted, his voice cracking with sudden panic. "I have armed men! Show yourself!"
Out from the shadows stepped a mountain of a man.
He wore a torn flannel shirt soaking wet with rain and sea salt, his left shoulder wrapped in blood-stained bandages, his face covered in fresh cuts and dirt. His thick white beard was wild, and his eyes—the same eyes that had softened while cradling three-pound infants—were burning with a lethal, demonic fury.
Wade.
He hadn't died on that porch in Oregon. He had survived the ambush, boarded a private freight run, and driven through the night like a bat out of hell to fulfill his final promise.
"You should have checked for a pulse, Doctor," Wade rumbled, his voice vibrating through the concrete floor like an earthquake.
"Kill him! KILL HIM NOW!" Pendelton shrieked.
The guard on the right raised his gun, but Wade moved with the speed of an enraged alpha predator. He closed the gap in a fraction of a second, grabbing the guard's wrist and snapping it upward with a sickening CRACK. The gun dropped to the floor as Wade delivered a brutal, short-range headbutt that sent the man flying backward into a row of steel lockers, knocking him instantly unconscious.
The second guard swung a heavy iron pipe aimed at Wade's wounded shoulder. Wade didn't even try to dodge it. He took the heavy iron blow directly against his body, roared in primal fury, wrapped his massive scarred arm around the guard's throat, and drove him head-first into the concrete floor with catastrophic force.
Within fifteen seconds, both armed enforcers were motionless on the wet ground.
Pendelton backed away in absolute horror, his hands shaking so violently he dropped his gun. It clattered uselessly across the damp floor, rolling to a stop right against Wade's steel-toed boot.
"Wade... please!" Pendelton begged, his knees giving out as he collapsed against the rusted boiler, his face pale as a sheet. "I'm a doctor! I save children! You can't do this!"
Wade stepped over the fallen guards, stopping right in front of Pendelton. He lowered his massive frame, leaning down until his bloodied, scarred face was inches from the corrupt doctor's nose.
"You used newborn babies to wash blood money," Wade whispered, his voice dangerously soft. "You aren't a doctor. You're a leech."
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Wade reached out with one massive, scarred hand, grabbed Pendelton by the collar of his expensive suit, and lifted him completely off his feet with one arm, pinning him against the wall.
"SARAH!" Wade called out without taking his eyes off Pendelton. "Call Agent Vance. Tell him the trash is ready for collection."
