Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE ON FIRE
Ethan held the receiver to his ear, his expression remaining completely unreadable.
“Is that so, Knox?” Ethan asked smoothly, gesturing with his hand for Vivian to stay entirely still. “And who does she work for?”
“She’s a Vance assassin, Ethan,” Knox said, his tone thick with artificial concern. “Her assignment was to execute you before the Commission meeting next Tuesday and hand the shipping corridors over to Geneva. My team intercepted an encrypted burst transmission from her suite twenty minutes ago.”
Ethan looked at Vivian. She was shaking her head violently, mouthing the words He’s lying!
“Where are you right now, Knox?” Ethan asked, his voice steady, betraying not a single shred of the storm raging inside him.
“I’m standing in the main security control room downstairs, Boss,” Knox replied. “I’ve taken the liberty of locking down the estate perimeter. Nobody gets in or out until we clear Miss Hart from the building. I’m coming up with four men right now to secure her.”
“Don't bother coming up,” Ethan said coldly. “I’ll bring her down myself.”
He hung up the phone before Knox could reply.
The moment the receiver slammed into the cradle, Ethan moved with blinding speed. He swept the black box, the photograph, the envelope, and the brass medallion off the desk and shoved them into his coat’s inner concealed pocket. He picked up the silver key Vivian had placed on the desk and pocketed it as well.
“Listen to me carefully,” Ethan said, grabbing Vivian by the arm and pulling her toward the concealed side door behind the heavy leather book cabinet—an escape passage built into the ancient brick chimney. “Knox isn't coming to secure you. He’s coming to eliminate us both and blame it on a Vance hit team.”
Vivian’s eyes widened in horror. “What about Clara?”
“Clara is with Mrs. Gable,” Ethan said. “Mrs. Gable was my nurse when I was a child. She’s the only person in this damned house who is loyal to me, not my father’s ghost.”
Ethan pulled a custom Sig Sauer P229 from the shoulder holster hidden beneath his jacket, checked the chamber with a sharp, professional rack of the slide, and handed a secondary compact Glock 19 to Vivian.
“Can you shoot?” Ethan asked sharply.
Vivian took the weapon with a practiced, familiar grip, her fingers instantly resting along the frame in proper safety protocol. “Your mother didn't just teach me how to read Swiss bank accounts, Ethan.”
Ethan offered a grim, approving nod. “Good. The passage behind the chimney leads to the wine cellar under the east wing. There’s an unmonitored drainage culvert that empties into the woods near the north gate.”
“What are you going to do?” Vivian asked, her hand lingering on the rim of the secret door.
“I’m going to get my sister,” Ethan said, his voice dropping into a tone of absolute, murderous finality. “And then I’m going to tear this empire down to the foundation.”
He pushed Vivian into the dark passage and clicked the book cabinet shut just as heavy, iron-soled tactical boots began pounding down the hallway outside his study.
BANG! BANG!
The heavy oak doors of the study exploded inward as Knox’s elite strike team breached the room, tactical lights cutting through the lingering smoke of the breaching charges.
Four men in unmarked black body armor surged into the study, carbines raised, sweeping the room with laser sights. Behind them walked Knox, holding a suppressed pistol, his weathered face set in lines of grim, cold ambition.
The study was empty.
Knox walked slowly toward the desk, noticing the freshly altered position of the walnut landscape painting above the mantle. He saw the open, empty steel compartment behind it.
May you like
Knox’s jaw tightened. He turned to his lead operative.
“They know,” Knox rasped, his eyes burning with a dark, ruthless fire. “Burn the house. Make sure neither Ethan nor the girl leaves these grounds alive.”
