Chapter 7 - The Final Diagnosis
The air in the generator room was thick with the smell of oil and ozone. The rain outside was deafening, leaking through the high ventilation grates. Dileia crept through the rows of humming machinery, the silver gun heavy and unfamiliar in her hands.
"I know you're in here, Hartwell!" Pike’s voice echoed from the shadows, high and erratic. "You think you won? You think that mafia thug can save you? You ruined me! Thirty years of work, gone because a thrift-store nurse couldn't keep her mouth shut!"
Dileia stepped into the central aisle. Pike was standing near the main power grid, his clothes soaked with gasoline, a lighter flicking open and closed in his right hand.
"Put the lighter down, Aldis," Dileia said, raising the gun with both hands, trying to keep it steady. "It’s over. The police are already on their way. The mercenaries you hired are dead or captured."
Pike laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "You think I care about prison? My life is over anyway! But I'm taking this house down with me. I'm taking you, and I'm taking that kid of yours!"
He reached out to strike the lighter against the main fuel line of the backup generator.
Bang.
The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space. The bullet tore through Pike’s right shoulder, forcing him to drop the lighter as he stumbled back against the metal casing of the generator, screaming in pain.
Dileia didn't look at him. She looked past him, where Killian Vance stood in the doorway, his coat torn, a smoking black handgun raised in his hand. He looked like an avenging angel, his gray eyes burning with a terrifying, absolute finality.
He walked forward, completely ignoring Pike's groans, and pulled Dileia into his arms, checking her over for any injuries. "Are you hurt? Did he touch you?"
"I'm fine," she gasped, burying her face in his chest. "I'm fine, Killian."
Killian turned his gaze to Pike, who was clutching his bleeding shoulder on the floor. Killian raised his weapon again, aiming directly between Pike's eyes.
"Killian, no," Dileia said, placing her hand gently over the barrel of his gun. "Don't do it. If you kill him here, you become what everyone thinks you are. Let the law take him. Let him sit in a cell knowing he was beaten by a nurse."
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Killian looked down at her, the icy fury in his eyes slowly softening as he looked into her face. He let out a long, ragged breath, lowered the weapon, and stepped on Pike’s dropped lighter, crushing it beneath his heavy boot.
"Marcus," Killian called into his earpiece. "Clean up this mess. Call the commissioner. Tell him I have a present for him."
