Chapter 10 - Blood and Lavender
The stairs creaked slightly under Adam's weight, but the sound of the rain lashing against the Victorian windows covered his ascent. In his right hand, he held the suppressed weapon he had stripped from the operative downstairs.
He reached the landing. The door to the guest bedroom was ajar.
Inside, two men in rain-damp tactical jackets were zipping a heavy canvas gear bag. On the bed sat Lucas, his knees pulled to his chest, wearing the same gray mourning vest from the funeral. His eyes were wide, but he wasn't screaming. He held Clara’s lavender sachet tightly against his nose, his small body trembling in absolute silence.
""Package is secured,"" one man said, pulling a zip-tie from his vest. ""Grab the kid's coat. Let's move before local police pick up the perimeter trip.""
Adam stepped into the doorway.
The first operative turned, reaching for his sidearm, but Adam fired twice in rapid succession. The suppressed thuds were barely louder than the patter of rain against the glass. The man collapsed instantly against the dresser, shattering a porcelain lamp.
The second operative lunged forward, throwing his entire bulk into Adam, knocking the gun from his grip. They crashed into the hallway wall, plaster cracking under the impact. The man drove a serrated combat knife toward Adam’s throat.
Adam caught the operative’s wrist, twisting with brutal leverage. The pain of the past twelve hours—the betrayal, the funeral, the stolen years—exploded through his limbs. He slammed the operative’s head against the doorframe once, twice, until the man dropped the blade and slid down the wall, unconscious.
Silence returned to the hallway, punctuated only by Lucas's shallow, terrified breathing.
Adam turned slowly, leaning against the doorframe, blood dripping from a cut above his eye. He looked at the boy.
Lucas lowered the lavender sachet. He looked at the bodies on the floor, then at the blood on Adam's hands, and finally up into Adam's face.
There was no horror in the child's eyes. Only an agonizing, heartbreaking recognition.
""Dad?"" Lucas whispered, his voice cracking. ""Mom said they would come when she fell asleep.""
Adam dropped to his knees, ignoring the pain in his ribs, and pulled Lucas into his chest. The boy buried his face into Adam's shoulder, clutching the wet fabric of his coat with desperate strength.
""You knew?"" Adam choked out, holding the boy as if the earth were falling away beneath them.
""Mom said bad men wanted to steal me,"" Lucas sobbed quietly into his collar. ""She said you were a superhero who forgot who he was, but when the shadows came, you would remember.""
May you like
Adam squeezed his eyes shut, tears finally breaking through his defenses. He wasn't Adam Vance. He was a weapon rebuilt to comfort a dying woman. But looking at this boy, he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he would burn the world to ashes before he let Croft take him.
""Pack your coat, Lucas,"" Adam whispered. ""We have to run.""
