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THE BILLIONAIRE’S KENNEL: The Shocking Secret of the Little Girl at the Gate / Chapter 7 / 8

Chapter 7 - The Warehouse Showdown

The rain had turned into a torrential downpour by the time Max tracked Vance’s convoy to an abandoned shipping warehouse on the edge of the Chicago River.

Using the backup GPS signal he had secretly synced to Lily's locket tracker before they entered the gala, Max drove his SUV straight through the heavy wooden doors of the warehouse, wood splinters flying everywhere.

The SUV screeched to a halt. Max stepped out, holding the silenced pistol he had taken from the intruder in Chapter 2.

In the center of the warehouse, Lily was tied to a chair under a harsh overhead light. Richard Vance stood over her, holding her locket. A technician was typing furiously at a laptop nearby.

"Ah, Maxwell," Vance sneered, not looking up. "Always the dramatic entrance. But you're too late. We've bypassed her biometric lock. We don't need her alive anymore."

"Let her go, Vance," Max said, his gun leveled at Vance's chest. "It's over. The police are on their way. The recording from the gala is already trending globally."

Vance laughed, a dry, hollow sound. "You think the police can touch me? With these codes, I will control the very satellite networks they use to communicate. I will be untouchable. And as for you..."

Vance nodded to his remaining guard.

A red laser dot appeared on Max’s chest.

"Any last words, partner?" Vance smiled.

Lily looked up, her eyes fierce. "Do it, Max. Press the button."

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The ambulance siren wailed in the distance, a rising shriek that cut through the rainy night like a knife. I didn't wait for them. I held Arianne against my chest, feeling the terrifyingly erratic rhythm of her pulse, and bolted down the grand mahogany staircase.

The ambulance siren wailed in the distance, a rising shriek that cut thr...

The heavy cabin door hissed shut behind me, sealing in the scent of expensive cologne, manufactured corporate harmony, and betrayal. As I stepped back onto the sun-baked tarmac of the private aviation terminal, the stifling afternoon heat hit me like a physical blow. Behind the thick, tinted glass of the jet's windows, I could see Carter’s silhouette—his jaw set in that familiar, arrogant angle of a man who believed he had just successfully disciplined a disobedient pet.

The heavy cabin door hissed shut behind me, sealing in the scent of expe...

Warren Voss stepped out from the shadow of the mahogany foyer, his silk robe catching the ambient light of the crystal chandelier. His expression carried the lazy, casual irritation of a man whose evening had been mildly inconvenienced by a stray dog, not the towering gravity of a situation where an old farmer stood on his porch holding a notched aluminum bat.

Warren Voss stepped out from the shadow of the mahogany foyer, his silk...

Vance’s smile vanished. "What button?"

Hook: Max reached into his pocket. He wasn't holding a phone. He was holding a small, black detonator.

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