Chapter 3 - Blood on the Hudson Line
The cold river wind howled through the blown-out window, whipping papers, napkins, and shattered glass across the train car. The remaining passengers in the rear were huddled beneath their seats, wailing in sheer terror.
“The emergency brake won’t work,” Celia said, crawling swiftly toward the vestibule between cars. “They jammed the pneumatic lines before we left Grand Central. This train isn't stopping until it hits the industrial yards outside Poughkeepsie—where an entire cleanup crew is waiting for your corpse.”
Adrian followed her, keeping low, his mind racing through betrayal after betrayal. Gabriel covered their rear, his weapon raised, scanning every corner.
“You knew the brake lines were tampered with?” Adrian demanded, grabbing Celia’s wrist as they reached the narrow, shuddering platform between the cars. The roar of the tracks below was deafening, the icy air biting into their skin. “You boarded this train knowing it was an execution chamber!”
Celia yanked her arm back, her eyes fierce. “I boarded this train to stop it, you arrogant idiot! If I wanted you dead, I could have put a bullet in your ear while you were struggling with four-letter words for agreement!”
“Who hired you?” Adrian snarled, backing her against the vibrating metal door.
“The same person who paid me three million dollars to make your death look like an unfortunate structural derailment,” she countered, her voice cutting through the wind like a razor. “Your brother-in-law, Marcus Vance. But he made one critical mistake.”
Adrian froze. Marcus. His sister’s husband, the polished, Harvard-educated CFO of Voss Holdings. The man who managed the legitimate trusts, the political donations, the family portfolios.
“What mistake?” Adrian asked through gritted teeth.
“He tried to kill my sister to tie up loose ends before the job even started,” Celia said, her voice dropping into an icy, venomous register. “Marcus thought he could hire the best ghost in the country, clean his ledger, and walk away untouched. He didn't know who I was related to. I’m not here to kill you, Voss. I’m here to tear his world apart from the inside out. But I can't do that if you let his hit squad paint these walls with your brains.”
Before Adrian could answer, the metal door leading to the rear café car burst open. Two heavily armored operatives stepped onto the platform, their tactical rifles raised.
Gabriel lunged forward to shield Adrian, taking a round straight to his shoulder. He gasped in pain, tumbling against the safety rail.
Adrian fired blindly, forcing the operatives to duck behind the doorframe, but their position was completely untenable. They were pinned on a shaking platform suspended over iron wheels spinning at lethal speeds.
“The roof!” Celia yelled, pointing to the emergency ladder bolted to the exterior bulkhead. “Now!”
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Without hesitating, Adrian shoved Gabriel toward the ladder. “Climb! Keep moving!”
Gabriel gritted his teeth against the agony in his shoulder, hauling himself up the rungs. Celia followed instantly, agile as a cat. Adrian fired his remaining rounds to suppress the mercenaries before grabbing the freezing metal rungs just as bullets chewed through the steel floorboards beneath his boots.
