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Chapter Seventy: The Third Shot
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2026-08-06 00:57:20The sound of the rifle bolt sliding forward echoed through the underground garage.
A professional.
Patient.
Disciplined.
The sniper wasn't firing wildly.
They were choosing targets.
Inspector Mara Voss reacted first.
"Down!"
The third shot shattered the concrete pillar inches above my head.
Fragments of stone exploded across the floor.
Ronan grabbed my shoulder and pulled me behind the Aston Martin just as another bullet tore through the windshield.
Safety glass burst inward like frozen rain.
Marcus dropped beside us, breathing hard.
"They're trying to pin us down!"
"No," Gabriel said, crouching behind a support column.
His eyes never left the upper ventilation grates.
"They're herding us."
Another shot.
This one struck the armored SUV's front tire.
The vehicle sagged heavily onto its suspension.
Escape by car was no longer an option.
The woman in the gray coat coughed weakly.
Blood stained the corner of her lips.
I pressed both hands firmly against the wound in her chest.
"Stay with me."
Her breathing trembled.
"I always... hated hospitals."
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
"So did my father."
Her eyes softened.
"Yes."
"He always complained... the coffee was terrible."
A memory surfaced without warning.
A hospital corridor.
My father carrying a paper cup.
A woman laughing because he insisted every hospital in the country served the same awful coffee.
The memory vanished before I could hold onto it.
But it was enough.
Enough to know she had truly been there.
Ronan knelt beside me.
"How bad?"
I looked at the wound.
"The bullet passed through."
Gabriel nodded immediately.
"Good."
I stared at him.
"You call this good?"
"It means the round didn't stay inside."
He removed his jacket and handed it to me.
"Use it."
I folded the heavy fabric against the wound.
The bleeding slowed.
Not enough.
But enough to buy minutes.
Only minutes.
Inspector Voss spoke quietly into her radio.
"This is Inspector Mara Voss."
No response.
She tried another channel.
Static.
"They're blocking every frequency."
Daniel crawled toward us behind the cover of a concrete divider.
"They've got at least two angles."
"You saw them?"
"No."
"I saw the impacts."
He pointed upward.
"One shooter."
He turned toward the far end of the garage.
"One spotter."
Marcus frowned.
"You can tell that from bullet holes?"
Daniel gave a humorless smile.
"I spent fifteen years learning how not to die."
Another shot cracked through the air.
The bullet struck the floor exactly where Marcus had been seconds earlier.
The sniper was adjusting.
Learning.
Ronan looked toward the ventilation grates.
"They aren't trying to kill all of us."
"No."
I followed his gaze.
"They're trying to separate us."
Gabriel nodded.
"They only need one person."
His eyes settled on me.
"The Keeper."
Silence followed.
The woman in the gray coat slowly opened her eyes again.
"Adrian..."
"I'm here."
"You have to listen."
"You need a doctor."
She gave the faintest shake of her head.
"No time."
Her fingers found my wrist.
"You'll want answers."
"I do."
"You'll ask the wrong questions."
The words struck harder than I expected.
"What should I ask?"
A tear escaped the corner of her eye.
"Don't ask..."
She struggled for breath.
"...who gave you life."
Her grip tightened with surprising strength.
"Ask..."
Another painful breath.
"...who was willing to lose theirs for yours."
I couldn't answer.
Because every person around me suddenly came to mind.
My father.
Victor Ashcroft.
This woman.
Even Ronan.
How many lives had already been sacrificed because of me?
A metallic clang echoed through the garage.
Everyone looked up.
The service elevator at the far end had begun descending.
Marcus frowned.
"I thought this level was hidden."
"It is," Gabriel replied.
"Then who has access?"
The elevator stopped.
The doors slid open with a soft chime.
Polished black shoes stepped onto the concrete.
Followed by an immaculate charcoal suit.
Lucien Cross.
He stood alone.
No bodyguards.
No weapon in sight.
He looked at the shattered vehicles, the wounded woman, and finally at me.
Then his gaze settled on the silver ring on my hand.
For the first time...
His perfect composure cracked.
Only for a heartbeat.
But I saw it.
Recognition.
Followed by disappointment.
"So."
He spoke quietly.
"Sebastian reached the Keeper's Chamber after all."
He took another measured step forward.
Ignoring the sniper.
Ignoring the blood.
Ignoring the guns pointed in his direction.
His eyes never left mine.
"I've been searching for that ring..."
He smiled faintly.
"...for thirty years."
Then he said the one sentence that turned everything upside down.
"I don't want Silverfang anymore."
The garage fell silent.
Lucien looked directly into my eyes.
"I want what the Keeper protects."
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