Chapter 5 - THE INTRUDER IN THE PENTHOUSEI rushed home earlier than usual, a knot of pure dread tightening in my stomach. The sun was setting, painting the sky in bruised shades of purple and orange. When the private elevator doors opened into my penthouse, the apartment was dead silent. Too silent.
"Lily?" I called out, dropping my briefcase on the floor.
No answer.
I strode through the hallway, my heart pounding. The guest room was empty. The bed was unmade, and a crayon box lay spilled on the floor. Then I heard a muffled scuffle coming from the private terrace overlooking Central Park.
I burst through the glass sliding doors.
A man in a dark tactical jacket was holding Lily by her arm. She was kicking, screaming, and sobbing hysterically. As the man turned around, sunlight caught his face, and I recognized him immediately: one of Richard Vance’s personal private security contractors.
"Let her go!" I roared, lunging forward with a burst of adrenaline.
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The operative dropped Lily, swinging a heavy right hook that caught me square in the jaw. Pain exploded across my face, but I didn't stop. I tackled him against the glass terrace railing, our weight shattering a decorative ceramic planter. With a surge of pure rage, I swept his legs out from under him, pinning him to the stone tiles and driving my fist into his shoulder until he went limp.
I turned around, gasping for breath, and scooped a terrified, shaking Lily into my arms. "I've got you," I whispered, pressing her face into my chest. "I’ve got you, Lily. You're safe."
