Chapter 27 - The Confrontation in the Ruins
The stairwell was pitch black, lit only by the faint, dust-choked beams of sunlight filtering through the broken skylights far above.
Mark moved through the ruined mill with the silent, deadly focus of a man pushed past the absolute brink of reason. He didn't care about the danger, didn't care about the armed guards or the legal traps. All he could see was Claire’s face, all he could hear was her voice calling out for him in his nightmares.
He reached the landing of the sub-basement stairs, his boots crunching softly on a layer of broken glass and plaster debris.
Suddenly, a flashlight beam sliced through the darkness, blinding him momentarily.
"Freeze right there, Mark," Sarah’s voice hissed from behind the glare of the light, the barrel of her pistol leveled squarely at his chest.
Mark didn't stop. He didn't even slow down.
Instead of retreating, he lunged forward with explosive speed, ducking beneath the beam of the flashlight just as a bullet shattered the brick wall behind him with a deafening roar.
*Bang!*
Before Sarah could adjust her aim and fire a second shot, Mark was on her. He slammed his shoulder directly into her midsection, driving the wind out of her lungs and sending her crashing hard against the concrete wall. The pistol flew from her hand, clattering away across the dusty floorboards.
Sarah gasped, clawing at his arms, but Mark grabbed her by the collar of her coat, slamming her against the wall with enough force to rattle her teeth.
"Where is she?" Mark snarled, his voice a low, terrifying growl that echoed through the stairwell.
Sarah choked out a cruel, breathless laugh, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. "You're... you're too late, Mark. Evelyn is finishing... what she started."
Without wasting another second, Mark backhanded her across the jaw, sending her slumping unconscious to the floor. He stepped over her limp body and threw open the heavy wooden door leading into the sub-basement.
The scene that met his eyes froze him in his tracks.
Evelyn Sterling stood over Claire, her silver cane raised high in the air, a manic grin twisted across her withered face.
"Evelyn! Drop it!" Mark roared, charging into the room like an oncoming freight train.
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Evelyn spun around at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening in shock. For a split second, hesitation flickered across her face. Then, with a snarl of pure hatred, she swung the heavy silver cane directly toward Claire’s head.
***
