Chapter 7 No.7

It took Isaiah's team four hours.

They tracked the bear costume to a dumpster behind a bodega in Queens. Then they tracked Karen and the boy on CCTV to a dilapidated tenement building a few blocks away.

THE BASEMENT

Karen was throwing clothes into a trash bag.

"We have to go, Hoke. Now."

"Where are we going?" Hoke asked. He was sitting on the bed, holding his fruit knife. He had sharpened it on a stone from the garden.

"Anywhere. Jersey. Philly."

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Footsteps. Heavy, expensive shoes on rotting wood.

Karen froze. The blood drained from her face.

A knock. Polite. Terrifying.

"Karen," Isaiah's voice came through the door. It wasn't loud. It was intimate. "Open the door."

Karen put a hand over her mouth. She pointed to the closet. Hide.

Hoke shook his head. He gripped the knife tighter.

"I know you're in there," Isaiah said. "Don't make me break it down."

Karen didn't move. She couldn't. Her legs were lead.

CRASH.

The door exploded inward. wood splinters flew through the air. The lock, rusted and weak, didn't stand a chance against Isaiah's kick.

Karen stumbled back, shielding Hoke.

Isaiah stepped into the room.

He filled the space. He was too big, too clean, too powerful for this dirty little hole. He wore a charcoal coat that cost more than the building.

Behind him, Victoria King stepped in. She looked around the basement with horror, a handkerchief pressed to her nose.

"Oh my god," Victoria whispered. "They live here?"

Isaiah's eyes swept the room. The mold. The mattress on the floor. The damp stains.

Then his eyes landed on Hoke.

Hoke jumped in front of Karen. He held the fruit knife out with a steady hand.

"Get out!" Hoke screamed. "Leave my mommy alone!"

Isaiah stopped. He looked at the knife. Then he looked at the boy's face.

It was undeniable. The DNA test wasn't even necessary. The rage in the boy's eyes mirrored his own perfectly.

"You," Isaiah breathed.

He took a step forward.

"Stay back!" Hoke slashed the air.

Isaiah moved with blurring speed. He caught Hoke's wrist, twisting it gently but firmly. The knife clattered to the floor.

"No!" Karen screamed. She threw herself at Isaiah. "Don't touch him!"

Two bodyguards rushed in from the hall. They grabbed Karen, pinning her arms back.

"Let me go! He's my son!" Karen thrashed, kicking and biting.

Isaiah held Hoke by the shoulders. He crouched down to be eye-level with the boy. Hoke was panting, furious, not scared.

"What is your name?" Isaiah asked.

"Hoke," the boy spat. "Let go."

Isaiah looked up at Karen. His expression shifted from wonder to cold, hard fury.

"You kept him from me," Isaiah said. "You raised my son in a sewer."

"I protected him from you!" Karen yelled.

"You failed," Isaiah said. He picked Hoke up. Hoke kicked Isaiah in the chest, but it was like kicking a wall.

"Mother," Isaiah said, handing the struggling boy to Victoria. "Take him to the car."

"No! Mommy!" Hoke screamed. He bit Victoria's arm.

"Ow!" Victoria yelped but held on tight. "It's okay, darling. Grandma has you. We're going to a nice place."

They dragged Hoke out. His screams echoed down the hallway.

Karen felt something break inside her. A primal surge of adrenaline.

She slammed her head back into the bodyguard's nose. He grunted, loosening his grip. She wrenched her arm free and lunged for Isaiah.

She didn't have a weapon. She used her nails. She aimed for his eyes.

Isaiah caught her.

He grabbed her wrists, slamming her back against the damp concrete wall. The impact knocked the breath out of her.

"That's enough!" he roared.

They were chest to chest. His breathing was ragged. Hers was hysterical.

"You stole five years of his life," Isaiah snarled, his face inches from hers. "You are unfit. You are a criminal. You will never see him again."

"I will kill you," Karen whispered. "If you take him, I will kill you."

Isaiah looked into her eyes. He saw the madness there. He hated her. He hated that he still found her beautiful even in this filth.

He shifted his grip. His hand moved to her throat, squeezing just enough to silence her. His other hand pinned her left wrist against the wall.

He pressed down.

And then he frowned.