Chapter 4 - The Vanguard Unleashed
The evacuation of the Vance estate took less than four minutes.
Andrew lifted me from the concrete floor with a gentleness that defied his terrifying aura. He wrapped me in his own fleece-lined coat, keeping my fractured shoulder completely immobilized against his chest as he carried me up the basement stairs.
As we reached the main floor, I saw the true extent of The Vanguard’s strike.
The mansion’s grand foyer—once a showcase of Edward’s vast wealth—looked like a command center that had been hit by a military unit. Twelve of Edward’s private security guards were lying face down on the marble floor, their hands zip-tied behind their backs, guarded by two quiet men in dark suits holding suppressed submachine guns.
Edward’s personal legal files, laptop hard drives, and private server arrays had already been ripped from his study walls and packed into heavy orange transit cases.
Sitting on the bottom step of the grand staircase, sobbing hysterically into her hands, was Lauren Cruz. Her designer dress was wrinkled, her perfect hair disheveled. A operator stood over her, his weapon aimed casually at her chest.
And in the center of the room, held down on his knees by two massive Vanguard operatives, was Edward Vance.
His crisp white shirt was torn at the collar, his hair wild, his face pale with a mix of blind fury and absolute terror. He had a deep cut over his left eyebrow where he had tried to resist the initial breach.
When Edward saw Andrew step out of the basement hallway carrying me, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
"You..." Edward gasped, his voice cracking with pure disbelief. "No... no, you died in Mexico! The dental records... the state department verified it!"
Andrew didn't stop walking. He carried me past Edward toward the open front doors, where a mobile medical unit was idling under the portico.
"Dental records can be bought, Edward," Andrew said, his voice flat, dangerously calm as he paused right beside him. "Especially when you're using the money you stole from my family to buy them."
"Andrew! Listen to me!" Edward screamed, trying to pull against the two men holding his arms. "I protected her! I took care of Valerie after the crash! She’s sick, Andrew! She’s mentally unstable—she pushed Lauren down the stairs tonight! Ask her! Ask the guards!"
Andrew stopped. He looked down at Edward with an expression of pure, detached disgust.
"My sister was a nationally ranked equestrian and a marathon runner before you married her," Andrew said softly. "She doesn't push people down stairs, Edward. She steps over them."
He turned to the lead operator standing near the door—Julian, who had traded his tailor’s vest for a sleek black tactical jacket.
"Julian," Andrew ordered.
"Sir?"
"Secure the server hard drives. Burn the estate’s secondary servers. And leave Mr. Vance and Ms. Cruz in the vault."
Edward’s eyes went wide with horror. "What?! You can't leave us here! This is my house!"
"It was built with Sterling money on land my father bought in 1992," Andrew replied, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Technically, Edward, you're trespassing."
"Andrew! You're a dead man walking! The moment I call the federal authorities—"
"You won't be calling anyone," Andrew said, stepping out into the cool night air where the paramedics were waiting with a heated gurney. "The lines are cut. The cell towers within two miles are jammed. And by the time your morning shift arrives, every bank account you own will be empty."
He placed me carefully onto the gurney. A doctor immediately began setting up warm IV fluids and monitoring my vitals, placing a high-flow oxygen mask over my face.
As the paramedics wheeled me into the back of the armored ambulance, I looked back through the open glass doors of the mansion.
I saw Julian calmly slide the heavy steel door of the basement vault shut.
Edward’s screams were cut off mid-sentence as the thick locking bolts engaged with a final, echoing CLANG.
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Andrew climbed into the ambulance beside me, taking my hand in his. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the small silver medal, and placed it back into my palm, folding my fingers gently over the three stars.
"Rest now, Val," he murmured, kissing my knuckles. "The hard part is over. Now we take back what's ours."
