Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF REVENGEMy father survived the first surgery.
That was the only good news.
The bullet had missed his heart by less than an inch, fractured a rib, and damaged part of his lung.
He remained unconscious in intensive care.
Grant was under guard.
Vanessa was cooperating.
Silas had vanished.
And Dr. Patel was missing.
I sat beside my father’s bed until sunrise.
My hand rested over his.
Machines breathed and beeped around us.
“You promised,” I whispered.
He didn’t respond.
“You promised nothing would happen.”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
“You are terrible at keeping promises.”
Behind me, Detective Reeves entered quietly.
“Claire.”
I wiped my face.
“Any word?”
“Nothing from Silas.”
“Dr. Patel?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
He hesitated.
“Grant wants to talk to you.”
I laughed without humor.
“No.”
“He says he knows where Silas may have taken the doctor.”
That changed everything.
I stood.
Pain immediately reminded me that my ribs were still cracked.
Reeves steadied me.
“You should sit.”
“I’m beginning to hate that sentence.”
He almost smiled.
Grant was handcuffed to a hospital security bed three floors below.
Two officers stood outside.
When I entered, he looked worse than I remembered.
Part of me felt satisfaction.
I hated that part.
“Claire.”
“Where is she?”
He swallowed.
“Can we talk first?”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Dr. Patel may die because of us.”
“Because of Silas.”
“Because you brought Silas into my life.”
His eyes filled.
“I didn’t know what he was.”
“You didn’t care.”
That silenced him.
I stepped closer.
“Where is she?”
“There’s a farmhouse.”
“Where?”
“Outside Millhaven.”
“How do you know?”
“Vanessa mentioned it once.”
“Vanessa says she doesn’t know.”
“She may not remember.”
“Address.”
“I don’t have one.”
My patience snapped.
“You asked to see me because you know nothing?”
“I know how to find it.”
He looked at Reeves.
“My phone.”
Reeves frowned.
“Your phone is evidence.”
“There’s an app.”
I stared at Grant.
“What app?”
“A secure map Vanessa used.”
Grant looked ashamed.
“I followed her once.”
“Because you suspected she was cheating?”
He gave a hollow laugh.
“Ironic, right?”
“Not funny.”
“No.”
Reeves retrieved the phone under controlled access.
Grant directed him through encrypted files.
A location appeared.
Rural property.
Forty miles outside the city.
Reeves immediately called it in.
I turned toward the door.
Grant called after me.
“Claire.”
I stopped.
“I didn’t know you were pregnant.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The excuse.
Again.
As if my pregnancy were the reason his behavior became monstrous.
I turned.
“You shouldn’t have needed to know.”
His face collapsed.
“I know.”
“No. I don’t think you do.”
“I loved you.”
“Maybe.”
He flinched.
“But not enough.”
His eyes filled.
“I can’t undo it.”
“No.”
“Is your dad…”
“Alive.”
Relief crossed his face.
Why?
Because he cared?
Or because murder charges were worse?
“I’m glad.”
“You shot him.”
“I panicked.”
“You always have a reason.”
Grant looked down.
I stepped closer.
“For seven years, I built excuses for you. Stress. Pressure. Childhood. Business. Temper. Pride.”
His shoulders shook.
“You don’t have to anymore.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I believe you.”
He looked up.
Hope flickered.
I destroyed it.
“But sorry doesn’t erase consequences.”
I left.
The farmhouse was empty.
Reeves found blood.
Not much.
Dr. Patel’s ID badge.
A broken syringe.
And a message written on the wall.
ONE LIFE FOR ANOTHER.
Silas called thirty minutes later.
This time, we recorded everything.
“Claire.”
“Where is she?”
“Alive.”
“Let her go.”
“You sound like your mother.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because she made the same mistakes.”
“Trusting my father?”
“Believing righteousness protects you.”
I gripped the phone.
“What do you want?”
“The real files.”
“They’re already distributed.”
Silence.
Good.
He didn’t know.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You should.”
“If anything happens to me, my father, Dr. Patel, or my child, they release.”
Silas’s voice cooled.
“You think that frightens me?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
I smiled despite myself.
It did.
“Where is Grant?”
“Arrested.”
“He’ll turn on me.”
“He already has.”
Silas swore quietly.
I had never heard true irritation in his voice before.
“You’ve become inconvenient.”
“My husband said that about me too.”
“How did that work out?”
Silas laughed.
Then his tone changed.
“Your doctor is useful.”
My stomach turned.
“What does that mean?”
“She knows your medical condition.”
“Leave my baby out of this.”
“Arthur didn’t leave my son out of things.”
I froze.
“What son?”
My father had never mentioned a son.
Silas continued.
“Ask Arthur about Gabriel Crowe.”
The call ended.
I turned toward Marcus.
“Who is Gabriel?”
His face went blank.
“That’s not my story to tell.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Claire.”
“Tell me.”
Marcus sighed.
“Gabriel was Silas’s son.”
“Was?”
“He died.”
“How?”
Marcus looked toward my father’s ICU wing.
“Your father killed him.”
The words landed hard.
“When?”
“Twenty-one years ago.”
“Before Mom died.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Gabriel tried to kill Arthur.”
“So Dad defended himself?”
Marcus didn’t answer.
“Marcus.”
“Gabriel surrendered.”
My stomach twisted.
“Oh God.”
“Arthur was different then.”
“He executed him.”
“Yes.”
Silas had killed my mother.
My father had killed his son.
For twenty years they had fed each other’s vengeance.
And now my baby had become the next possible victim.
Enough.
I walked toward ICU.
Dad had awakened ten minutes earlier.
He looked pale but alert.
“Claire.”
“Gabriel Crowe.”
His eyes closed.
“So you know.”
“You killed him after he surrendered.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Rage.”
“That’s it?”
“He tried to kill you.”
I froze.
“What?”
“You were eight.”
Dad’s breathing changed.
“Gabriel came to our house. He thought hurting you would make me comply with Silas.”
“What happened?”
“I stopped him.”
“And then?”
“He begged.”
Dad looked away.
“I killed him anyway.”
I sat down.
There were no clean heroes here.
Only damaged people making choices.
“Silas killed Mom because of that?”
“Partly.”
“You started it?”
“No.”
“Did he?”
“Does it matter?”
I stared.
He was right.
Twenty years later, no.
The beginning had become irrelevant.
Only the ending mattered.
“Dad, I’m done.”
“With what?”
“Your war.”
“Claire—”
“I’m ending it.”
His eyes sharpened.
“How?”
“By giving Silas what he thinks he wants.”
“No.”
“The files.”
“No.”
“The real ones.”
“Absolutely not.”
I leaned forward.
“He wants vengeance. Not evidence.”
“He wants both.”
“Then I’ll offer something better.”
Dad stared.
“What?”
“You.”
His face went cold.
“No.”
“You’re the person he actually hates.”
“No.”
“He wants the man who killed his son.”
“Claire.”
“And you owe him accountability.”
“I owe him prison.”
“Then help me put him there.”
Arthur studied me.
I explained.
The files would remain distributed.
Silas couldn’t erase them.
We would offer the original drive and my father in exchange for Dr. Patel.
But the location would be controlled.
Recorded.
Surveilled.
No secret sniper teams.
No hidden army.
This time, Silas needed to speak.
Confess.
Publicly.
Dad listened.
Then said quietly, “He won’t.”
“He loves telling people why he’s right.”
That almost made him smile.
I continued.
“You and Silas are the same in one way.”
His expression changed.
“You both spent years believing your pain justified everything.”
He looked away.
“Maybe hearing that from you will make him reckless.”
Dad nodded slowly.
“And if it fails?”
May you like
I touched my stomach.
“It can’t.”
