Chapter 6 - The Siege of the Estate—Get down! —Arthur barked, pulling a concealed firearm from his jacket holster as he stepped in front of Julian’s wheelchair.
—How many? —Julian demanded, his voice chillingly calm, showing the cool composure of a billionaire warlord cornered in his own fortress.
—At least four armed men, moving through the east wing service stairs, —Arthur replied, tapping furiously on his encrypted tablet. —They’ve jammed our external cellular signals. We can't call local police. We’re entirely on our own until backup from federal marshals arrives in twenty minutes.
I felt a cold spike of adrenaline pierce my chest. For a second, my mind flashed back to the cabin fire twenty years ago—the smoke, the terror, the feeling of helplessness.
No, I told myself fiercely. I am not that helpless girl anymore. My children are safe at the hospital. I have nothing left to fear.
—Arthur, give me your spare radio, —I said, my voice steady and commanding.
Arthur looked at me, hesitating for a split second before handing me a compact encrypted two-way radio and a heavy steel door wedge from the study.
—Clara, what are you doing? —Julian asked, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength, his eyes locked onto mine with urgent worry. —It’s too dangerous. They’re professional mercenaries hired by my uncle's co-conspirators to eliminate anyone who has access to the master ledger drives.
—They want the master ledger drives? —I asked, a grim, fearless smile touching my lips. —Then let's give them a proper audit.
I turned and sprinted down the corridor toward the master study, where the main server safe was housed. I knew every architectural quirk of this estate from auditing the building blueprints yesterday.
Heavy footfalls echoed up the grand staircase.
“Clear the second-floor hallway! Find the safe!” a harsh voice shouted in the distance.
I reached the study, slammed the heavy oak door shut, and wedged the steel door stop beneath the heavy timber with all my weight. I grabbed the master USB drive containing the unredacted federal evidence against Richard Bennett’s entire cartel, slipped it into my pocket, and grabbed an emergency fire extinguisher mounted by the bookshelf.
Just as heavy blows struck the exterior door of the study, trying to splinter the wood, I smashed the glass of the balcony sliding door, slipping out onto the stone ledge just as the office door burst open behind me with a thunderous crash.
A masked intruder stepped into the room, holding a silenced pistol, his eyes locking onto me across the balcony rail.
—There she is! Grab her! —the man shouted.
Before he could raise his weapon, the glass doors behind him shattered completely.
Julian’s motorized wheelchair—custom-fitted with reinforced titanium alloy plating and driven at maximum acceleration by Julian himself—slammed directly into the back of the intruder, sending the mercenary flying over the balcony railing into the swimming pool two stories below.
Arthur Vance appeared behind Julian, firing two precise warning shots into the ceiling that sent the remaining intruders scrambling back down the service stairs in blind panic.
Julian brought his wheelchair to a sharp halt at the edge of the balcony, his chest heaving, his dark eyes blazing with triumphant fury as he looked down at me.
—Are you alright, Clara? —he shouted over the wailing alarm.
May you like
I stood on the ledge, holding the master drive in my hand, breathless, bruised, but smiling like a victor.
—Never better, Julian! —I called back. —Shall we finish the audit?
