Ch.34: Thorne's Plan

*CLANG.*

The oxygen tank connects.

It isn't a killing blow. Isabella is too weak, and the tank is too heavy. She swings it like a clumsy pendulum, and it glances off Aris's shoulder rather than his skull.

But it’s enough.

Aris stumbles. The champagne bottle flies from his hand, shattering against the wall in a spray of expensive foam. He falls to one knee, clutching his shoulder.

"Bitch!" he screams.

He spins around, ready to strike, but Isabella is already moving. She doesn't fight. She runs. She sprints for the open door, leaving me alone with the monster she just woke up.

Aris scrambles to his feet. He looks at the door, then at me.

He realizes he can't chase her. If he leaves, I’m unsecured.

He kicks the door shut. He locks it.

"Traitor," he hisses, glaring at the empty hallway where Isabella vanished. "Ungrateful little parasite."

He turns to me. He sees my free hands. He sees the cut straps.

His eyes go wide. Then they narrow into slits of pure, cold rage.

"So," he whispers. "The vegetable has thorns."

He walks toward me. He doesn't have a weapon, but he doesn't need one. He has his hands. And he knows exactly where to press to make a body shut down.

I brace myself. I am still weak. My legs are useless. My only advantage is surprise, and that is gone.

Then, a sound.

*Thump. Thump. Thump.*

From the vent.

Aris freezes. He looks up at the ceiling.

The grate rattles. A screw falls to the floor. *Clink.*

Then the grate bursts open.

Thorne drops into the room.

He lands badly, crashing onto the metal instrument tray. He groans, clutching his ribs, his face grey with pain. He is covered in soot and blood. He looks like a man who walked out of hell.

But he is holding a gun.

Not his service weapon. A small, black pistol he must have taken from the guard in the furnace room.

"Get away from her," Thorne wheezes. He levels the gun at Aris.

Aris raises his hands. He smiles.

"Detective. You look terrible."

"I've been better," Thorne spits. "On your knees. Hands behind your head."

Aris doesn't kneel. He looks at Thorne with a mixture of amusement and pity.

"You really don't understand, do you?" Aris says. "You think this is a hostage situation. You think you're the hero."

"I think I'm the guy with the gun," Thorne says. "Kneel."

Aris takes a step forward.

"Shoot me," he challenges. "Go ahead. Shoot the most famous surgeon in the hemisphere. Shoot the man who funds the police pension."

Thorne's finger tightens on the trigger.

"Don't tempt me."

"I'm not tempting you," Aris says softly. "I'm negotiating."

He reaches into his pocket.

"Don't!" Thorne yells.

Aris pulls out his phone. He holds it up. The screen displays a live video feed.

My heart stops.

It’s a small, sterile room. White walls. A single bed.

A boy is lying in the bed. He is pale, thin, hooked up to a ventilator.

Leo.

But there is something else in the room.

Around the boy's neck is a thick, black collar. A metal box is attached to the front, blinking with a slow, red light.

"Do you know what that is, Detective?" Aris asks pleasantly.

Thorne stares at the screen. He lowers the gun slightly.

"It's a C-4 charge," Aris explains. "Wired to a remote detonator. Wired to *this* phone."

He taps the screen.

"If my heart rate stops... it detonates. If I press this button... it detonates. If I don't enter a code every hour... it detonates."

He looks at me.

"Greta thought she could steal him," he says, his voice dripping with contempt. "She didn't know I moved him yesterday. She ran into an empty room."

My stomach drops. Greta didn't get him. She ran into a trap.

"Where is she?" I whisper.

"In the kennel," Aris says. "Listening to her son breathe. Knowing that his life hangs by a thread that *I* hold."

He looks back at Thorne.

"So, Detective. Are you going to shoot me? Are you going to blow a sick child's head off to save one woman?"

Thorne’s hand shakes. The gun wavers.

He looks at me. His eyes are full of apology. Full of defeat.

"Drop the gun," Aris commands.

Thorne hesitates.

"Drop it!" Aris roars. His thumb hovers over the red button on the screen.

Thorne drops the gun. It clatters to the floor.

Aris kicks it away.

"Good," he says. "Now. Let's discuss the terms of your surrender."

He walks over to the wall panel. He presses a button.

"Security to the lab," he orders. "We have pests."

He turns back to us.

"You wanted to see the operation, Detective? You're in luck. You're going to have a front-row seat."

He looks at me.

"And you, Elena... you're going to get your wish. You wanted to be close to me? We're going to be inseparable."

He smiles.

"After I harvest your face for the client... I'm going to keep your brain. In a jar. On my desk. So you can watch me win. Forever."

The guards burst into the room. They grab Thorne. They grab me.

We are dragged apart.

But as they pull me away, I look at Thorne. I see something in his eyes.

He isn't defeated. He is calculating.

He looks at the vent he fell from. He looks at the gun on the floor.

And he mouths one word to me.

*Tonight.*

The stakes just went nuclear.