Chapter 7 - The Clock in Her Veins
Marcus felt the world spin on its axis. The brutal reality of Eleanor’s plan hit him like a physical blow. Eleanor hadn’t just intended to poison Leo tonight; she had made sure that if Clara somehow managed to reach the estate, she wouldn’t survive the night to claim her life back.
“Diaz!” Marcus shouted into his comms unit. “What are Clara’s vitals?”
“Heart rate is forty-two and dropping,” Diaz’s voice came back, strained and panicked. “Pupils are constricted. Paramedics say it’s a synthetic organophosphate—a slow-acting neurotoxin. Standard atropine isn't stabilizing her. We have less than thirty minutes before full respiratory failure.”
Marcus dragged Miller up by his collar, hauling the wounded captain to his feet. “Where is the antidote, Miller? Eleanor’s bag? Is it on her?”
Miller gasped, his face twisted in pain. “The chopper… she has the medical cache in her flight crate. She keeps the counter-agents on hand in case she accidentally exposed herself during preparation. If the chopper takes off, Clara dies. It’s that simple.”
Marcus shoved Miller against the wooden dock railing, clicking heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists and securing him to the iron cleat. “Consider this your early retirement, Captain.”
Marcus sprinted back up the winding garden path. His shoulder burned with blinding fire, but the surge of adrenaline pushed the pain into the background. He reached the circular driveway in front of the main mansion where Arthur was being treated for shock in the back of an ambulance.
Seeing Marcus emerge from the darkness drenched in blood, Arthur jumped out of the vehicle. “Did you catch her? Where is she?”
“Your wife is heading for the Oakhaven airstrip,” Marcus said, ripping open the driver’s door of Arthur’s personal high-performance SUV. “Clara is poisoned. Eleanor used a customized neurotoxin on her before the raid. If I don’t intercept Eleanor before her helicopter lifts off, your children are going to watch their mother die a second time.”
Arthur’s face morphed from pathetic sorrow into terrifying resolve. “Take the truck. The access road to the airstrip is washed out by the rain, but that vehicle has hydraulic suspension and four-wheel drive. Cut through the old timber trail—it saves ten miles.”
Marcus threw himself into the leather driver’s seat. “Arthur, stay with your kids. Protect them with your life. Don't let anyone near that safe room.”
Arthur nodded fiercely, tears still staining his face, but his jaw set firm. “Save her, Marcus. Please.”
Marcus slammed the SUV into gear. The heavy tires gripped the wet gravel, kicking up stone and mud as the vehicle surged forward into the darkness.
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Through the rear-view mirror, Marcus saw Maya standing at the open threshold of the mansion’s heavy front doors. The little girl had Leo’s hand clutched tightly in hers. She wasn’t crying anymore. She stood straight, watching Marcus leave with the fierce, unyielding hope of an elder sister guarding the remnant of her broken family.
Marcus floored the accelerator, plunging into the narrow, unlit timber road as the dashboard clock ticked relentlessly downward: twenty-four minutes remaining.
