Chapter - 289
The CLANK of the padlock being hammered into the jammed door handle was a sound of absolute finality. It was followed by the WHOOSH of the gasoline igniting, a sudden, hungry roar that lit up the bottom cracks of the door with a flickering, hellish orange.
Then came the heat.
It wasn't immediate, but it was fast. A dry, oppressive warmth that began to suck the moisture from the air. The container, a 40-foot steel box, was now a high-end, professionally curated oven. And they were the main course.
"Oh my God," Sharon whispered, her voice tight with a new kind of panic. She was on her knees, her hands still pressed against Crimson Sparrow's chest, but the frantic, rhythmic compressions had stopped.
"He's… he's gurgling!" she said, her voice a mix of horror and disbelief. "He's still breathing! Rick, help me! I have to apply pressure! He's bleeding out!"
