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"Listen to me, Finn—" Rob started, but Finn hung up before he could finish, the silence of the terminated call echoing in his ears. He knew Rob meant well, but this was something he had to do.
Finn pocketed his cell phone and took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what lay ahead. He caught his reflection in a large ornate mirror in the lobby. He realized he wasn't as well kept as he once was. His blond beard hadn't been trimmed in a while, and the dark patches under his eyes spoke of countless nights looking for a trail of breadcrumbs. The weight of his past, his suspension from the agency, the civil court case – all of it paled in comparison to the task at hand. This was his chance to make things right, and he wouldn't let anything stand in his way.
As he strode towards the elevator, he felt an odd mix of fear and finality. But he knew that Max Vilne would not simply surrender without a fight. And Finn would be ready for him, no matter the cost.
Finn's footsteps deadened on the plush carpet as he made his way to the elevator, his instincts sharpening with every step. The hotel was a tasteful blend of modern and traditional design, its high ceilings and expansive windows allowing for an abundance of natural light. Yet, despite the inviting atmosphere, Finn couldn't shake off the icy grip of trepidation.
The elevator doors slid shut, and as the metal box ascended, Finn steeled himself, his mind racing through potential scenarios and contingencies. The last time he had faced Vilne back in the US, he had come close to meeting his maker. Finn knew that he had been very lucky. But luck, like life, could run out at any moment.
"Room 405," he whispered under his breath, the numbers feeling like a countdown to an inevitable confrontation.
Upon reaching the fourth floor, Finn cautiously approached room 405, his senses heightened. He hesitated only for a moment before knocking firmly on the door. He used the fake name Vilne had given on the register: “Mr Carlton, sorry to bother you,” Finn said, trying his best to mimic a generic English accent. “But we've had a leak coming through on the third floor, and we're having to check each room. I just need to look at the bathroom and make sure there are no leaking pipes in your room.”
"Come in," Max Vilne's voice called out from behind the door, eerily calm and composed. Finn's blood almost froze at the sound of it.
"Keep it together, Finn," he muttered to himself as he opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was dimly lit, curtains drawn to obscure him from any prying eyes. Max stood near the window, his dim shape only accentuating the darkness in his eyes. He turned to face Finn, a cold smile playing on his lips.
To Finn, it was the face of Evil incarnate.
"Ah, Finn Wright. I've been enjoying my stay in your lovely adopted country," Max said casually, folding his arms across his chest. "I must say, your British friends do know how to make a serial killer feel welcome."
"Vilne!" Finn snapped, fists clenched at his sides. How he wished he was allowed to carry a firearm in the United Kingdom. He didn't have that safety net. But still, he had to go through with the confrontation. "You're under arrest."
"Am I?" Max replied, raising an eyebrow. "Now that's interesting. I think you'll find that it is you who are trapped."
Before Finn could react, Max flicked his wrist, throwing a handful of powder into Finn's face. The air around him became a suffocating cloud, burning his nostrils and throat. He choked and sputtered, desperately trying to draw in a breath. His vision blurred, and the room spun out of focus.
"Vilne..." Finn gasped, his knees buckling as he collapsed onto the floor.
"Sorry, old friend," Max taunted, standing over Finn's prone form. "You'll have to do better than this. You got me once through sheer luck, but now you must see how trulyweakyou are in comparison to me."
As the world faded away, Finn clung to the single thought that fueled his determination: He would not let Max Vilne win – no matter what it took.
With Max's sinister grin hovering above him, Finn could feel the weight of his own helplessness. The room continued to spin as dizziness clouded his senses. He tried to throw an upward punch, but his limbs were too heavy to lift.
"Quite a nifty little concoction I made at the chemists, don't you think?" Max gloated. "It'll wear off soon enough, but by then, I'll be long gone. The question is, will I have finished you off before leaving?" He let out a snide laugh.
Finn struggled to regain control of his body, his fingers digging into the carpet, but the powder's effects held him in its grasp.
"Death is too good for you. Your time will come, but not yet. Your life will become a living hell, Finn," Max whispered, leaning down close enough for Finn to feel his breath on his face. "You should have left well enough alone back home. But now, I want everyone to know how pathetic and useless you are. You can't even protect your loved ones."
The sound of rushing footsteps echoed through the hallway beyond the door, and Finn's heart clenched with both hope and dread. Max's smile widened, a gleam of malevolence in his eyes.
"Ah, sounds like a woman's gait. Could it be that the fiery redhead you've been keeping company with has come to rescue you? Inspector Winters, isn't it?" Max mused, watching Finn's reaction closely.
Finn knew that if it was Amelia, there was nothing he could do to protect her while drugged.
"I can see she matters to you,” Max Vilne continued. “That's good of you to let me know. I'll add her to my list."
"Leave her out of this," Finn growled through gritted teeth, frustration boiling inside him.
"Can't make any promises, old friend," Max chuckled before swiftly moving towards the window. “I really just wanted you to know what you were in for, but I wonder if I should focus on this Winters woman rather than your ex-fiance Demi? See you soon.” He threw the window open and slipped outside, disappearing from sight just as the door burst open.
The footsteps Finn had heard, did indeed belong to Amelia and two uniformed officers, who stood ready for a fight. They scanned the room, their eyes landing on Finn's prone form.
"Damn it, Finn," Amelia muttered, kneeling beside him and helping him sit up. She sounded angry, but but beneath it was simmering concern and affection. "We told you to wait for backup... Are you okay? What happened?"
