Chapter 4 - The Iron Cage
The hiss of depressurizing gas pipes echoed through the cavernous corridor. Raymond didn't panic; he knew every inch of his property. He holstered his sidearm, pulled the manual release panel beneath an unassuming brick, and wrenched the bypass lever. The mechanism groaned, sparks flying as the emergency lock popped open.
Raymond emerged into the cool night air behind the estate grounds. His black SUV was idling near the maintenance path, keys left inside by his personal driver, who lay unconscious on the grass. Raymond checked the man's pulse—steady, merely stunned.
He climbed behind the wheel, gunned the engine, and tore through the back access road toward the docklands. His phone rang. It was an encrypted line.
""You're fast, Raymond,"" Cynthia's voice purred through the dashboard speakers, entirely stripped of the sweet, submissive veneer she had worn for years. ""But you're too late. She's already confessed.""
""Confessed to what?"" Raymond asked, his voice flat, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel.
May you like
""To who she really is,"" Cynthia whispered coldly. ""You thought you married an innocent girl from upstate. Ask her about Nicholas Kane, Raymond. Ask her why she keeps his ring in her locket.""
The line went dead, leaving Raymond staring into the rainy night as his headlights caught the rusted silhouette of Warehouse 42.
