Chapter 16 - The Glass Tower
The wind howled through the open floor plates of the 40th floor of 4th Avenue, carrying torrential rain that swept across the raw concrete slab in blinding sheets. Chicago stretched below in a glittering, distant web of urban lights, partially obscured by low-hanging storm clouds that tumbled across the night sky.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the skeletal framework of steel girders, temporary construction netting, and exposed elevator shafts.
Julian shoved Maya out onto the open slab. She stumbled on the slick, unpolished concrete, her hands scraped against the rough surface as she caught herself. Rain soaked her hair in seconds, plastering it against her pale face.
"Get up!" Julian roared over the thunder, his eyes wild and bloodshot. He was breathing heavily, his left shoulder dark with dried blood beneath his rain-soaked coat. He held a high-caliber pistol gripped tight in his right hand.
Maya slowly pulled herself up, her injured ribs burning with every breath. She turned to face him, stepping backward until her heel brushed against the temporary perimeter cable—the only thin line of steel separating them from a 400-foot drop into the darkness.
"He's already here, Julian," Maya said, her voice cutting through the gale. "Look around you. It's over."
"Shut up!" Julian shouted, taking two rapid steps toward her, leveling the firearm at her chest. "He thinks he's a ghost! He thinks he can hide in my shadows! Let him come out! Let him watch me take the only thing he cares about before I drop him into the street!"
Another flash of lightning lit up the entire 40th floor.
Standing quietly fifty feet away, beside the massive concrete elevator core, was Derrick.
He hadn't made a sound. He wore a dark tactical coat, water dripping from his jaw, his expression as unyielding and cold as iron. In his right hand, his silenced pistol was held low at his side. The black geometric tattoo on the back of his hand caught the stark glare of the storm.
"I'm here, Julian," Derrick said. His voice was calm, steady, and completely unhurried, carrying effortlessly across the wind.
Julian spun around, dragging Maya in front of him with his left arm, locking his elbow around her throat while aiming his pistol squarely at Derrick’s chest.
"Drop it!" Julian screamed, his arm trembling from exertion and pain. "Drop the gun, Derrick, or I put a bullet through her neck right now!"
May you like
Derrick didn't flinch. He slowly raised both hands, holding his pistol by the grip with two fingers, and let it fall to the wet concrete with a dull clack. He kicked it lightly with his boot, sending it sliding away into the dark shadows near the elevator shaft.
"The gun is gone," Derrick said, taking three slow, deliberate steps forward into the rain. "It's just us now, Julian. Like it always was."
Related Stories
