Chapter 8 - The Return of the Twin
"You were always predictable, Dominic," Victor gloated, taking aim at Dominic's chest. "You die for your passions. I live for my ambition."
Suddenly, a loud, mechanical screech echoed through the cavernous silo.
A heavy industrial forklift, hidden in the shadowed loading dock, smashed through the wooden barricades at forty miles an hour. It slammed directly into the steel support beams holding up the catwalk!
CRASH!
The entire catwalk shuddered violence. Victor lost his footing, screaming as he pitched forward, dropping his gun. The mercenaries were thrown off balance, tumbling down onto the lower platform.
Through the cloud of rust and dust, the forklift came to a halt. Sitting in the modified driver's seat, his hands gripping the controls with white-knuckled determination, was Julian Vale.
He had driven his specialized hand-controlled van all the way from Lake Forest, following the GPS tracker he had secretly slipped into Grace’s apron pocket days ago.
"Julian?!" Victor gasped, hanging onto the broken railing for dear life.
"Hello, Uncle," Julian’s voice boomed through the silo, no longer a whisper, but a clear, resonant baritone filled with seven years of pent-up rage.
Dominic didn't waste a second. He dived for his dropped Kimber .45, rolling across the floor and coming up firing. BANG! BANG! BANG! Victor’s remaining mercenaries were eliminated in seconds as Dominic’s men recovered their arms and secured the lower floor.
Dominic sprinted up the emergency ladder to the damaged catwalk. He reached Grace just as the steel platform began to buckle. Cutting her bonds with his tactical knife, he pulled her tightly into his arms, lifting her effortlessly as he carried her down to safety.
"Are you hurt?" Dominic demanded, his voice shaking with a rare, terrifying emotion as he checked her face, her shoulders, her hands.
"I'm fine," Grace gasped, clinging to his shirt. "Julian... look at Julian!"
Dominic turned. Julian had stepped out of the forklift. Supported by two heavy titanium leg braces he had hidden in his room for months, Julian was standing on his own two feet. He walked slowly, painfully, but with absolute purpose toward his uncle, who was crawling on the floor, bleeding from a broken arm.
Julian stood over Victor, looking down at the man who had tried to destroy his life.
"You stole my mobility," Julian said, his voice cold and unwavering. "You stole seven years of my life. But you failed to steal my mind."
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Julian pulled out his phone, clicking a button. "The FBI is outside, Uncle. They have every ledger, every invoice, and every confession you ever made on my surveillance tapes. You won't die today. You will spend the rest of your life in a six-by-eight cell, thinking about the twin you couldn't break."
Sirens wailed in the distance, blue and red lights flashing through the broken windows of the silo. The nightmare was finally over.
