Chapter 9
The streets of the financial district were completely deserted at two in the morning. Marcus drove his sports car at high speeds through the neon-lit urban canyons, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror every few seconds to ensure he hadn't been followed. The black sedan was nowhere in sight; he had lost them in the maze of alleyways near the harbor.
He pulled his car up across the street from the grand banquet hall where his wedding had taken place less than twelve hours ago. The brightly lit indoor venue now sat dark and foreboding behind heavy glass windows. The crystal chandelier inside was switched off, casting long, eerie shadows across the white floral arches that still framed the abandoned altar.
Marcus parked the car illegally in a red zone, cut the engine, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The crisp night air stung his face, clearing the adrenaline rush from his system. He walked up to the grand double wooden doors of the venue, grabbing the brass handles and pulling.
Locked.
He cursed under his breath, stepping back to examine the heavy glass windows flanking the entrance. He glanced around the empty street—no pedestrians, no patrol cars.
Walking over to a nearby construction site sitting adjacent to the venue, Marcus picked up a heavy, rubber-coated brick left behind near a pile of scaffolding. He walked back to the side window of the venue, wrapped his leather jacket tightly around his hand, and struck the glass with a sharp, controlled blow.
The glass shattered with a muffled crack, creating a jagged hole just large enough to reach through. Marcus carefully cleared away the loose shards of glass, slipped his arm inside, and unlocked the interior latch from within.
He pushed the window open, hoisted himself up over the sill, and dropped silently onto the carpeted floor inside the dark venue.
The room smelled faintly of white roses, spilled champagne, and lingering anxiety. Moonlight filtered through the high arched windows, illuminating the rows of empty chairs facing the altar.
Marcus walked slowly down the central aisle, his footsteps making no sound on the thick carpet. As he approached the altar beneath the floral arch, he saw it—the white floral bouquet, left exactly where Maya had dropped it when the police put the handcuffs on her wrists.
He knelt down on one knee in front of the altar, reaching out with trembling fingers to lift the heavy arrangement of white roses and delicate greenery.
"Come on," Marcus whispered to himself, searching the stems and the satin ribbon wrapped around the base.
His fingers brushed against a small, hard contour hidden beneath the fabric wrapping. He pulled at the satin ribbon, unravelling it quickly, and a small, metallic safety deposit box key dropped out, landing softly on the carpet beside his knee.
May you like
Marcus picked up the key, holding it up to the moonlight. But before he could stand back up, a bright beam of a high-powered flashlight suddenly cut through the darkness, blinding him as a voice echoed from the shattered entrance behind him.
***
