Chapter 10 - The Tape in the Wall
The shockwave of the C4 blast threw me backward across the wet floorboards.
Smoke and plaster choked the air.
Through the haze, four armed men in black tactical gear entered the safehouse,
forming a perimeter around Adrien.
Adrien looked immaculate.
He wore an expensive charcoal cashmere coat over a tailored suit.
His hair was perfectly styled, untouched by the storm outside.
The only flaw was the white medical tape plastered across his broken nose—the
gift Victor had given him in my apartment hallway.
His eyes scanned the room, stepping over the shattered glass until they landed
on me.
Then on Victor, who lay bleeding out against the pillar.
"Look at you two," Adrien mocked, his voice echoing in the ruined room.
"The disgraced prince and the lost princess. How romantic."
Victor tried to rise.
His muscles strained, veins standing out on his neck, but the loss of blood was
too great.
He collapsed back to one knee, coughing up crimson.
"Stay down, Victor," Adrien said casually, pointing his gold pistol at his
brother's forehead.
"You've been a thorn in my side since the day I was born. Always the strongest.
Always the favorite. Father pretended to love me, but we both know he was
terrified of you."
"You're a coward, Adrien," Victor spat, his voice thick with blood.
"You kill women from behind steering wheels. You hide behind father’s lawyers."
Adrien’s smile vanished.
His jaw twitched, revealing the unhinged, violent sociopath beneath the charming
facade.
He stepped forward and kicked Victor viciously in the wounded shoulder.
Victor grunted, slamming his teeth shut to swallow the scream, his knuckles
turning white as he braced himself against the concrete.
"Stop it!" I screamed, lunging forward.
One of the armed guards grabbed me by the hair, violently yanking me back and
pinning my arms behind my spine.
Pain spiked through my scalp.
Adrien turned to me, his cold eyes glittering.
"Don't worry, Lena. I’m not going to shoot you yet. Not until you tell me where
your dear dead daddy hid the ledger."
"I don't know what you're talking about!" I cried, struggling against the
guard's iron grip.
"I was five years old when he disappeared! I didn't even know his real name
until two minutes ago!"
"Liar," Adrien sneered, stepping closer until I could smell his expensive
cologne.
"Marcus Vance was paranoid. He wouldn't trust a bank. He wouldn't trust a
lawyer. He hid the micro-cassette containing forty million dollars of offshore
account numbers somewhere only his daughter could find it."
He reached out and stroked my soot-stained cheek with the cold barrel of his
gun.
I jerked my face away in disgust.
"Six months I spent listening to you drone on about your pathetic little yoga
studio," Adrien whispered venomously.
"Six months of pretending to care about your feelings, waiting for you to drop a
hint about your father’s old belongings."
He laughed, a bitter, hollow sound.
"And then I found out you inherited that commercial building on Milwaukee Avenue
from a blind trust. The very studio where you teach."
My mind went completely still.
The yoga studio.
My mother had told me the studio was bought using an anonymous settlement from
an insurance policy.
A gift from someone who loved us, she had always said before she died of cancer
three years ago.
It wasn't an insurance settlement.
My father had bought that building thirty years ago under a shell company.
"It’s in the walls, isn't it?" Adrien asked, his eyes widening with greed.
"The ledger is inside the building."
"You burned it down, you idiot!" I shouted at him.
"You poured gasoline down the basement stairs! If it was there, it’s ashes now!"
Adrien paused.
A flicker of doubt crossed his face.
Then he smiled again, tapping his temple.
"The foundation is pre-war reinforced concrete, Lena. A ten-minute fire won't
destroy a steel drop-box buried in the mortar."
He signaled to his men.
"Secure Victor. Put a bullet in his kneecaps so he doesn't follow us. Then bring
Lena to the transport."
"No!" I screamed.
Two guards moved toward Victor, raising their rifles.
"Adrien," Victor’s voice cut through the room.
It wasn't a plea.
It was a command.
Adrien paused, looking back down at his dying brother.
"What, Vic? Want to beg for your life?"
Victor looked up from the bloody floor.
A slow, bloody grin spread across his bruised lips.
"You always forget to check the perimeter, little brother."
A red laser dot suddenly appeared on Adrien’s chest.
Then another.
Then five more.
The broken windows were suddenly framed by dark silhouettes in full military
gear.
Not Antonio’s men.
Not mercenaries.
Federal tactical gear.
FBI Hostage Rescue Team.
"FBI! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! DROP THEM NOW!"
Flashbangs exploded simultaneously across the room.
The roar was absolute.
In the chaos, Victor lunged with his remaining strength, tackling the guard
holding me to the ground.
"Run, Lena!" Victor roared through the smoke.
Gunfire erupted in every direction.
I scrambled toward the shattered terrace, glass tearing at my knees, but before
I could clear the threshold, an arm locked around my neck like a steel vise.
Adrien pulled me backward into the darkness of the service corridor, the barrel
May you like
of his gold gun pressed hard against my skull.
"If I go down, Lena," Adrien hissed into my ear, "you go down with me."
