Chapter 12 - A Calculated Betrayal
Thirty minutes later, a black sedan pulled up to the curb of my childhood home in the quiet suburbs of Oak Brook.
Rain drummed steadily against the roof of the car. Through the front windows of the two-story brick house, I could see shadows moving behind drawn curtains.
In my handbag, I carried the forged power of attorney documents bearing Gabriel Moretti’s counterfeit signature, transferring the voting shares to Luke.
Beneath my collar, a microscopic audio transmitter broadcast every breath I took directly to Gabriel’s command van parked two blocks away.
“Federal snipers are in position on the perimeter roofs,” Gabriel’s deep voice resonated clearly in the tiny earpiece hidden in my ear canal. “The basement thermal scan shows one guard guarding the detonator near the furnace. As soon as you enter the living room, keep Dante and Luke’s eyes on the papers. You have four minutes before the jamming signal cuts their detonator frequency.”
“I’m going in,” I whispered under my breath.
I stepped out of the car, pulled my coat tightly around myself, and walked up the front steps.
Before I could knock, the front door swung open. A heavily armed man in a tactical vest grabbed my arm and yanked me violently inside, slamming and locking the door behind me.
“Hands where I can see them!” he barked, patting down my outer coat pockets, missing the tiny pistol concealed in the inner lining.
“Let her go!”
I walked into the living room.
My father was tied to a dining chair, a bloody bruise swelling over his left eye. My mother sat on the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably, clutching my sixteen-year-old brother Leo, whose pale face was tight with confusion and fear.
Standing by the fireplace was Luke, looking disheveled, wild-eyed, and manic, holding a glass of Scotch. Beside him stood Dante Marcone, an automatic pistol resting casually in his shoulder holster.
“Claire!” my mother wept. “Why did you come here?
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