Chapter 4 - The Winter Sky
Climbing onto the roof of a high-speed passenger train was like stepping into an Arctic hurricane. The sheer force of the headwind nearly ripped Adrian’s grip from the safety ridge. The gray sky hung low over the Hudson River, spitting bitter flurries of sleet that stung their exposed faces.
Ahead of them, Gabriel had collapsed against an air-conditioning exhaust housing, clutching his bleeding shoulder. Celia was already on her knees beside him, ripping open his jacket and applying direct, crushing pressure to the wound with a torn scarf from her bag.
“He’s losing blood fast,” Celia shouted over the deafening roar of wind and engine exhaust. “The bullet passed through the muscle, missed the subclavian artery, but shock will set in if we stay exposed in this freezing weather!”
Adrian crawled over the slippery metal skin of the train, positioning his body to block the worst of the freezing gale from hitting his injured friend. He pulled his spare magazine from his pocket and slammed it into his pistol.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Adrian shouted at Celia.
“The police?” She let out a humorless, bitter laugh that vanished into the rushing wind. “Marcus has half the state attorney’s office on his payroll! You built a criminal empire so vast that legitimate law enforcement looks the other way, and now your own family is using your corrupt system to butcher everyone you care about!”
Adrian felt a sick, hollow knot tighten in his gut. For fifteen years, he had operated under the absolute conviction that he controlled everything. He had believed fear was the ultimate shield, that his name was an unassailable fortress. Yet in his pursuit of total control, he had allowed a serpent to nest in his own living room. Marcus had been dining at his family table, smiling at his sister, raising his nephew, all while calculating the exact price of Adrian’s life.
Suddenly, a loud thump reverberated through the roof plates beneath their knees. The hatch fifty feet behind them was being unbolted from the inside.
“They’re coming up,” Adrian said, his voice deadly calm. The shock had passed; pure, focused fury took its place. “Gabriel, can you hold a sidearm?”
Gabriel nodded weakly, pulling a compact backup gun from his ankle holster with trembling fingers. “I’m good, Boss. Just give the word.”
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“Don't bother shooting them all,” Celia said, pointing ahead along the curved track. Through the mist, the towering rusted iron girders of the Kingston rail bridge were rushing toward them at terrifying speed. The clearance between the train roof and the low steel overhead beams of the old bridge was less than four feet.
“If they stand up when the train enters that trestle,” Celia warned, her eyes narrowing with lethal calculation, “the bridge will do the work for us. But we have to lie completely flat—and hold on for our lives.”
