Chapter 6 - The Penthouse Interrogation—Chad Kensington Learns True Terror
The Marina District penthouse was pulsing with bass.
Chad Kensington, twenty-one years old, stood on the rooftop balcony surrounded by ten of his elite frat brothers and several campus socialites. He was drinking champagne straight from the bottle, laughing boisterously as he re-enacted the attack from earlier that night.
"I'm telling you, boys," Chad laughed, slurring his words, "the look on her face when Wyatt dropped her was priceless! She thought she was gonna go to the Dean! She didn't know the Dean is on my dad’s payroll! We run this city!"
His friends cheered, clinking their crystal glasses together in a toast to their total impunity.
Suddenly, the heavy reinforced steel penthouse elevator doors chimed and slid open.
The music didn't just stop; the entire sound system sparked and blew out with a sharp pop as Leo activated an electromagnetic pulse device on the building’s junction box. The party lights died, plunging the luxurious rooftop into shadows illuminated only by the distant city skyline.
"Hey! Who killed the music?!" Chad yelled, turning toward the elevator with an irritated sneer. "Security! Get up here and fix the damn breakers!"
Out of the darkness emerged four figures in tactical uniforms.
Before any of Chad’s drunken fraternity brothers could react, Hayes and Marcus moved with surgical efficiency. In less than six seconds, four private security bodyguards who attempted to draw tasers were disarmed, swept to the ground, and zip-tied with zip-ties rated for counter-terrorism detainees.
The partygoers screamed in panic, scattering to the corners of the terrace like terrified mice.
Chad stood alone in the center of the patio, dropping his champagne bottle. The glass shattered across the imported Italian tile. "Who the hell are you guys?! Do you know who my father is?! My dad is Arthur Kensington! He'll have you thrown in a black site for this!"
I stepped out from behind Marcus, the moonlight catching the cold, unyielding scars across my jawline.
Chad looked at me, his drunken haze momentarily clearing. A flash of recognition hit him. "You... you're that girl's dad. The old man from the hospital parking lot..."
"Chad," I said, walking toward him with measured, deliberate steps.
Chad took two steps backward until his spine hit the glass railing of the balcony, thirty stories above the concrete street below. "Stay back! Don't touch me! I swear to God, Brantley's aunt is a United States Senator! She has Pentagon connections! You touch me, and you're committing treason!"
I closed the distance in a fraction of a second.
My hand clamped around his throat like a vise of solid iron. With a single, effortless motion, I lifted his two-hundred-pound frame off his feet and leaned him out over the thirty-story precipice.
Chad shrieked, his legs flailing wildly in the empty air above the abyss. The wind whipped his designer shirt as he stared down at the miniature cars moving hundreds of feet below. "PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T DROP ME! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!"
"Did Chloe say please?" I asked, my voice calm, steady, and terrifyingly cold.
"YES! YES, SHE DID!" Chad sobbed, tears and snot streaming down his pale face. "She begged us to stop! I didn't want to hit her that hard! It was Wyatt! Wyatt was the one who kicked her! He said we had to make sure she couldn't talk!"
"And what did you say to her, Chad?" I asked, tightening my grip just enough to cut off half his oxygen supply. "Didn't you tell her that her father was a nobody? That you could erase us both?"
"I LIED! I'M A PIECE OF SHIT! PLEASE, SIR, PLEASE PULL ME IN!" Chad screamed, his voice cracking into high-pitched hysteria. "I'LL CONFESS! I'LL SIGN ANYTHING! I'LL GIVE YOU WYATT AND BRANTLEY! JUST DON'T KILL ME!"
Hayes held up a high-definition tactical bodycam, recording every second of Chad’s terrified confession.
"Julian," I said into my comms. "Did the DOJ secure the recording?"
"Loud and clear, Commander," Julian responded. "Chad Kensington’s full confession is officially entered into the federal evidence database. State prosecutors have just issued non-bailable arrest warrants for aggravated felony assault, conspiracy, and witness tampering."
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I pulled Chad back over the railing and dropped him onto the hard tile floor. He curled into a fetal position, weeping uncontrollably, his designer clothes soaked in his own terrified sweat.
"Marcus," I said, not looking back at the pathetic boy. "Hand him over to the SWAT team currently ascending the stairs. One down. Two to go."
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