Page 30 of Inheritance
A wordless exchange passed between Tony and Michael. Tony shifted closer to me.
He reached a door at the end of the hall and pushed it open. A stairwell. Concrete walls, no windows. A bare bulb flickered above.
“Just down here.”
Tony and Michael stood on either side of me, the auctioneer now cornered between us and the dark stairwell.
"How about we wait for you here while you go down and bring the right paper up to us?" Michael said.
The man blinked, letting out a laugh that was more a suggestion to relax than an expression of amusement. "I'll just go and get that."
He took a step back, still facing us but teetering dangerously close to the edge of the top stair.
Suddenly, Michael made a strange noise.
I turned sharply to see his eyes bulging, hands clawing at his throat, legs buckling. A thin wire glinted at his neck, someone behind him, pulling it tight.
"Michael!" I shouted as Tony roared, locked in a brutal struggle with a second attacker.
Tony slammed him against the wall, a sickening crunch echoing down the hall. The man slid to the floor.
I turned, Michael was still upright, but barely. His face had gone purple, his arms limp at his sides as the man behind him sawed the wire deeper into his neck.
I screamed.
The auctioneer lunged at me, grabbing my arm.
Tony didn’t hesitate.
He crossed the space in two strides and ripped the second attacker off Michael, slamming him to the ground, then burying a knife in his chest.
I blinked, tried to take a breath but It was like I forgot how.
The auctioneer let go of me and ran, shoes hammering the floor as he vanished down the hall.
Tony steadied me, then dropped to his knees beside Michael.
“Hey, come on man we gotta go,” he said, patting Michael’s cheek. “Mikey?” He patted his cheek harder.
Nothing.
Tony froze. His hand hovered there, still touching Michael’s face, then slowly drew back.
Voices rang out somewhere out of sight, fast, coming closer.
More men.
Tony grabbed my hand and pulled me after him the only way we could go.
Down the stairs.
Gabriel
We were only a few minutes from the museum, but I tried calling her again anyway. No answer.
Damien let out a slow breath and leaned against the window.
“I have to admit,” he said, “she’s handling herself better than I thought she would.”
