Chapter 7 - The Digital Deadlock“You’re in no position to negotiate, Austin,” Sarah hissed, her finger tightening slightly on the trigger of her assault rifle.
“Am I not?” Austin’s lips curved into a slow, chilling smile that didn't reach his eyes. “You assume that flash drive in my hand is the only copy in existence.”
Sarah’s expression hardened instantly. “What are you talking about?”
“Elena Reed wasn't just a forensic accountant. She was paranoid—justifiably so,” Austin said, stepping back toward the pillar near the ruined staircase. “Before she left Vermont, she didn't just give me one drive. She split the master database into three separate encrypted fragments. One is right here. One is sitting in a safety deposit box in Zurich under a name that only Jaging and I know. And the third... well, the third was automatically uploaded to an encrypted decentralized ledger the moment Bruno cut our external fiber-line twenty minutes ago.”
Sarah’s face lost every trace of color. The cool, collected prosecutor facade instantly shattered, replaced by raw, frantic panic.
“You’re bluffing,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “You wouldn't risk your own empire just to—”
“My empire died the day my father put a gun in my hand, Sarah,” Austin interrupted, his voice cutting through the storm like a razor. “The only thing I care about right now is making sure that little girl upstairs gets to grow up without looking over her shoulder every five seconds.”
Before Sarah could lift her rifle to fire, the heavy oak front doors swung open entirely, revealing the flashing red and blue lights of half a dozen unmarked federal cruisers flooding the gravel driveway.
Except... they weren't federal marshals.
Men in tactical black gear bearing the insignia of Interpol and the Department of Homeland Security’s Internal Affairs division swarmed the front steps, led by a tall, gray-haired woman in a sharp trench coat.
Special Agent in Charge Diana Vance—Sarah’s own mother, who had spent the last ten years secretly building an internal RICO case against her husband and daughter.
“Drop your weapon, Sarah!” Diana’s voice echoed through the ruined foyer, sharp as broken glass.
Sarah spun around, her eyes widening in absolute horror as she realized she had been checkmated from both sides.
“Mother? What is this?” Sarah stammered, lowering her rifle an inch.
“It’s over, Sarah,” Diana said, stepping past the wreckage of the Suburban, her hand resting firmly on her holster. “We’ve intercepted the Cayman Island relays. The entire Senate committee has already been served with arrest warrants. Your father is currently being pulled out of a hearing in Washington in handcuffs.”
Sarah let out a bitter, hysterical laugh, swinging her rifle back toward Austin with suicidal desperation. “If I’m going down, I’m taking him with me!”
She pulled the trigger.
Click.
Nothing happened.
May you like
Austin simply stood there, holding the empty magazine he had quietly ejected from her rifle while she was distracted by her mother's entrance.
“Like I said, Sarah,” Austin whispered, stepping forward and delivering a swift, devastating kick to her knee that dropped her instantly to the marble floor. “Never trust a mobster.”
