Chapter 3 - The Blood Moon Over Wolf Island
The interceptor boat cut through the choppy, black waters of Lake Michigan like a knife through silk.
Spray erupted in cold sheets over the windshield as Gabriel pushed the twin inboard engines to their absolute maximum capacity.
Madeline stood in the companion seat, gripping the stainless-steel grab rail so hard her knuckles turned stark white.
Ahead of them, rising like a jagged tooth out of the dark expanse, stood Wolf Island and its abandoned, rust-streaked lighthouse.
A single amber light flickered near the top of the stone tower, casting long, eerie shadows across the rocky shoreline.
“They’re beached on the north cove!” Gabriel shouted over the deafening roar of the engines.
“Hold on tight; I’m coming in hot!”
The boat surged forward, its fiberglass hull grinding violently against the shingle beach as Gabriel cut the power at the last second.
Madeline was out of the boat before it had even fully settled, her boots sinking into the wet gravel as she sprinted toward the treeline.
Gabriel was right behind her, his tactical shotgun drawn and resting securely against his shoulder.
“Vane knows we’re coming,” Gabriel warned quietly, scanning the dense thicket of pine trees ahead.
“This is his home turf; he’s had years to fortify these ruins.”
They moved in absolute silence through the damp underbrush, the howling wind masking the crunch of pine needles beneath their boots.
Through the trees, the skeletal frame of an old coast guard barracks loomed into view, surrounded by rusted barbed wire and security cameras.
Two armed guards stood outside the corrugated metal door smoking cigarettes, their breath pluming white in the freezing air.
Gabriel raised three fingers, signaling a synchronized silent takedown.
Before the guards could even turn their heads, Gabriel and his lead scout closed the distance with terrifying velocity.
Two muffled thuds echoed through the brush as the guards slumped unconscious into the dirt.
Madeline rushed past them, pushing open the heavy metal door of the barracks.
Inside, the air smelled of stale coffee, cheap tobacco, and fear.
Rows of empty bunk beds lined the walls of the long, dim hallway lit by flickering fluorescent tubes overhead.
At the far end of the corridor, a heavy wooden door stood wide open, revealing a flight of concrete stairs leading down into the subterranean bunkers.
From somewhere below came the faint sound of a child’s muffled crying.
Madeline froze, her heart stopping in her chest as recognition hit her like a physical blow.
“Oliver,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
She didn’t wait for Gabriel this time, sprinting down the concrete stairs with reckless abandon.
Gabriel cursed softly under his breath and sprinted after her, knowing that a desperate mother was more dangerous than an entire platoon of mercenaries.
At the bottom of the stairs lay a large, damp chamber filled with old electrical generators and copper cabling.
In the center of the room sat a small wooden chair, and bound to it with thick plastic zip-ties was a tiny figure in a blue hoodie.
“Mommy!” Oliver cried out through the duct tape covering his mouth, his wide eyes shining with tears in the dim light.
Madeline dropped to her knees in front of her son, ripping the tape away with frantic, trembling fingers.
“I’m here, baby, I’m right here,” Madeline sobbed, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his hair.
“I’ve got you, nothing is ever going to hurt you again.”
Oliver buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing quietly as he clung to her jacket.
“I was so scared, Mommy,” Oliver whimpered.
“The bad men said they were going to make you go away.”
Gabriel swept the perimeter of the bunker with his shotgun, his eyes narrowing as he spotted movement in the shadows near the back utility tunnel.
“Vane!” Gabriel called out into the cavernous space, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.
“It’s over! Step out where I can see you, or I turn this bunker into your tomb!”
A slow, mocking clap echoed from the dark mouth of the utility tunnel.
Out stepped Viktor Vane, a tall, impeccably dressed man with slicked-back silver hair and a thin scar running down the left side of his jaw.
In his hand, Vane held a heavy-duty detonator box with a blinking red LED light.
“Well, well, the great Gabriel Rossi,” Vane sneered, flashing a cruel, wolfish grin.
“Always playing the knight in shining armor for stray dogs and their pups.”
Gabriel kept his weapon trained dead-center on Vane’s chest.
“You crossed a line tonight, Viktor,” Gabriel said coldly.
“You touched my family, which means you don’t get to leave this island alive.”
Vane laughed, pressing his thumb lightly against the red button on the detonator box.
“Family?” Vane mocked.
“You think a fake engagement ring makes you a family, Gabriel?”
“The moment I press this button, this entire island bunker goes up in a nuclear-grade fireball, and you all become a footnote in Chicago history.”
Madeline shielded Oliver behind her back, her eyes locking onto Vane with pure, unadulterated fury.
“You won’t press it,” Madeline said, her voice steady and chillingly calm.
May you like
“Because men like you love money and power too much to die in a hole in the ground.”
Vane’s smile wavered for a fraction of a second as he looked into Madeline’s eyes and saw no fear left to exploit.
