Chapter 2 - The Interception at Gate 17The heavy glass doors of the Gate 17 jet bridge hissed open with a mechanical shudder.
A collective gasp rippled through the gathered crowd of passengers and airport staff. Two armed airport security officers flanked the entrance, their hands resting cautiously on their holstered sidearms, while Marcoâs private security detail formed an impenetrable human wall blocking any escape routes.
And there she was.
Victoria Vance stepped out of the airlock, her face flushed with righteous indignation, clutching her designer leather travel tote as if she were a duchess unjustly detained by peasants.
"What is the meaning of this?!" she shrieked, her voice cutting sharply over the terminal's ambient hum. She slammed her boarding pass down onto the podium, glaring daggers at the terrified gate agent. "I demand to speak to a supervisor! My flight was already on the tarmac! Do you have any idea how much my ticket cost? I have a connection in Zurich, andâ"
"Shut your mouth, Victoria."
The cold, flat delivery of my voice cut through her screeching like a razor-sharp scalpel.
Victoria spun around, her eyes widening as they swept past my security guards and landed squarely on me. For a split second, color drained completely from her expertly contoured face. She recognized the coat. She recognized the men. Or perhaps, deep down in whatever hollow, greedy soul she possessed, she recognized the terrifying reality of a predator who had just locked his jaws around her ankle.
"R-Ryker Steel?" she stammered, her voice suddenly losing its venom, replaced by a frantic, high-pitched tremor. "You... what are you doing here? This is a mistake! Iâm just a private citizen traveling forâ"
"Traveling light, it seems," I interrupted smoothly, stepping forward until I stood just inches away from her. I didnât raise my voice. I didnât need to. "Though you forgot your most expensive carry-on luggage back on the bench."
I turned my head slightly. Marco stepped forward, leading Lily and Owen by their small hands.
Victoriaâs gaze snapped toward the twins. A flicker of pure, unadulterated panic crossed her features before she violently masked it with a sneer of disgust.
"Oh, them," she spat, crossing her arms over her beige coat. "Those little parasites? Look, Mr. Steel, you don't understand the full story. Their worthless father died three weeks ago with massive gambling debts. He left me nothing! No insurance, no estate, just a mountain of collectors calling my phone twenty-four hours a day! I am not their mother. I am their stepmother. My obligation legally ended the second David stopped breathing!"
The crowd of onlookers gasped audibly. Cell phones clicked furiously as voyeurs captured every toxic word.
"Legally, perhaps," I said, my eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "Morally? Youâre walking trash."
"You can't talk to me like that!" Victoria shrieked, regaining a sliver of her arrogant defiance. "They are your problem now if you care so much! Take them! Adopt them! Put them in an orphanage! I don't care! I have a flight to catchâ"
She tried to push past my shoulder toward the open jet bridge.
Marco didn't even draw a weapon; he simply extended a single, massive forearm like a steel girder. Victoria bounced off it with a sharp cry, stumbling backward against the terminal wall.
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"You're not going anywhere, Victoria," I said, leaning in close so only she could hear the promise dripping from my lips. "Not to Zurich. Not to the Bahamas. Not even to the parking lot. You are going to sit right here, look those children in the eye, and sign over every single legal guardianship right you possess. Because if you don't, Iâm going to make sure the federal tax fraud division audits every single offshore account your late husband left behindâstarting with the ones you drained yesterday."
Victoria froze. Her jaw dropped, her eyes bulging in absolute horror. She knew. She knew I knew everything.
