Chapter 2 - The Prisoners Behind the Wall
Grant did not storm the warehouse.
Six months earlier, he would have.
That version of him solved betrayal with speed.
The wheelchair had taught him patience.
“Get Owen’s family out,” he told Dominic. “Quietly.”
“And Carter?”
“Carter sees nothing.”
At 3:12 a.m., Dominic’s team entered through an unused loading corridor.
Seventeen minutes later, they emerged with a woman wrapped in a gray blanket and an eight-year-old boy clinging to one of the guards.
Rebecca Mercer.
Ben Mercer.
Owen’s wife and son.
Both alive.
Both underfed.
Both terrified.
Grant stared at them from the SUV.
The entire picture shifted.
Owen had poisoned him.
That remained true.
But Owen had done it while his family was being held at gunpoint.
Grant understood coercion.
His empire had been built partly on knowing the difference between loyalty and fear.
“Take them to the Lexington townhouse,” he ordered. “Medical care. Food. Two guards. Nobody tells Owen.”
Dominic frowned.
“You’re going to keep him thinking they’re prisoners?”
“For another twelve hours.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to know whether he chooses them or Carter once he has a choice.”
The next morning, Owen arrived at the mansion carrying the same medical bag.
Grant sat beside the fireplace.
Lily was on the carpet stacking blocks.
Claire folded linens near the window.
Owen removed two tablets.
His hands shook.
Grant accepted one.
Pretended to swallow.
Then asked casually, “How long until you give up on my legs?”
Owen’s eyes flickered.
“I don’t give up.”
“Interesting.”
Owen looked at him.
Grant continued.
“Neither does Carter.”
Owen went still.
Only for a fraction of a second.
Enough.
After the examination, Owen packed his instruments.
Lily held up a wooden block.
“Doctor, this is a castle.”
Owen stared at her.
Then looked away so quickly that Claire noticed.
Once he had gone, she asked, “Why does he look at Lily like he’s apologizing?”
Grant studied the closed door.
“Because maybe he is.”
That night, Owen received a note.
MIDNIGHT. CHAPEL HALL. COME ALONE.
When he arrived, Grant was waiting in the darkness.
The white pill lay in his open palm.
Owen stopped breathing.
Grant spoke first.
“Your family is alive.”
Owen’s knees almost gave out.
“What?”
“Rebecca and Ben. Safe.”
Owen covered his face.
The sound that escaped him was not relief.
It was six months of terror collapsing at once.
Then Grant’s voice hardened.
“Now tell me everything.”
May you like
Owen lowered his hands.
And for the first time since the ambush, someone finally told Grant the truth.
