Chapter 5 - The Glass and the Steel
I didn't move an inch. I looked at the small silver barrel pointed at my face, then looked into Victoria’s eyes.
“You won't shoot me,” I said quietly.
“Try me,” she hissed. “I have nothing left to lose.”
“If you shoot me, the lockdown stays permanent,” I replied, taking a deliberate step forward. “The doors are programmed to my biometric signature. If my heart stops, this entire estate turns into a steel vault. You’ll be trapped in this kitchen with my body until the FBI cuts through the doors with thermal torches.”
Victoria’s hand trembled. The ruthless calculation in her eyes faltered for a fraction of a second as she processed the mathematical reality of her situation.
That fraction of a second was all I needed.
I grabbed a heavy copper stockpot from the counter beside me and slammed it sideways against her wrist.
CLANG!
The gun discharged wildly—a loud BANG echoing through the tiled kitchen—and the bullet shattered a glass display case behind me. The gun clattered across the slick tile floor, spinning beneath the industrial dishwashers.
Victoria let out a furious scream, lunging at me with her sharp nails raised, aiming directly for my eyes.
I caught both of her wrists in midair. She fought with terrifying, hysterical strength, kicking, biting, and screaming curses that would make a sailor blush. Her red silk dress tore completely at the waist, exposing her tactical thigh holster.
“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, her face inches from mine, her breath smelling of expensive champagne and copper. “We were going to own this city! We were going to own everything!”
I twisted her arms behind her back, forcing her down onto her knees against the cold, wet stainless-steel prep table.
“It’s over, Victoria,” I whispered into her ear as the heavy kitchen doors were kicked open by Agent Vance and four federal marshals with tactical shotguns.
“Hands where I can see them!” Agent Vance yelled.
I stepped back, raising my hands, as two marshals tackled Victoria to the floor, pinning her down, clicking heavy steel handcuffs around her wrists.
She screamed and thrashed against the floorboards, spitting blood from a cut lip, as they dragged her upright.
As she was led past me, her dark eyes locked onto mine with pure, unadulterated hatred.
May you like
“You’re nothing without me, Ethan!” she spat. “You’re just a weak, pathetic weakling who got lucky!”
“Maybe,” I said softly, looking down at her torn red dress. “But at least I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in a federal supermax facility.”
