Chapter 5 - Warehouse 42
Rain lashed against the corrugated iron siding of the abandoned shipyard warehouse. Raymond slipped through a broken loading bay, his footsteps masked by the steady drum of water on metal. The air smelled of salt, rust, and cheap gasoline.
In the center of the vast hangar, bathed beneath a solitary hanging industrial bulb, Clara sat bound to a wooden chair. Her silk pajamas were smeared with grime, her head bowed. Cynthia stood over her, wearing a dark trench coat, a small silver revolver resting loosely in her gloved right hand.
""Step into the light, Raymond,"" Cynthia called out without turning around. ""Or I put a bullet through her knee.""
Raymond walked into the illumination, keeping his weapon lowered by his thigh. ""This ends tonight, Cynthia. The police have surrounded the entire district. You don't walk out of here.""
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""I don't need to walk out,"" Cynthia sneered, her eyes gleaming with manic resentment. ""Our father left everything to you because you were his blood, while I was just the adopted orphan meant to serve your family. But Clara isn't who you think. Show him, Clara! Open your pendant!""
Clara looked up, her face streaked with tears and dirt, her eyes locking onto Raymond's with gut-wrenching despair. ""Raymond, forgive me... I had no choice.""
