Chapter 10 - THE FINAL JUDGMENT AND A NEW DAWNI didn't panic. I sprinted back to the SUV, leaping into the passenger seat as Marcus slammed the vehicle into gear and punched the accelerator to the floor.
The heavy SUV roared down the parallel service road, racing neck-and-neck with the accelerating private jet as it prepared for liftoff.
“Marcus, get me alongside the landing gear!” I ordered, unlatching my safety harness and opening the passenger door against the howling wind.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Marcus shouted. “At this speed, if you miss, you're dead!”
“Do it!”
Marcus wrenched the steering wheel hard to the left, smashing the side of our SUV directly against the rolling landing gear assembly of the speeding jet as it began to lift its nose off the tarmac.
The metal shrieked in agony. Sparks showered across the dark runway.
I stood up on the passenger seat, bracing my legs against the dashboard, and leaped across the terrifying chasm of rushing wind and tearing metal, grabbing onto the heavy hydraulic strut of the jet's nose gear just as the wheels retracted upward into the belly of the plane.
The wind whipped violently around me, threatening to tear my fingers loose from the slick metal. My arms screamed in protest, every old war injury flaring up at once.
With a final, explosive surge of adrenaline, I hauled myself upward, jammed the override release button on the emergency maintenance hatch of the wheel well, and kicked the reinforced fiberglass door inward.
Crash!
I tumbled headfirst out of the freezing wind and onto the carpeted floor of the private jet's luxury main cabin.
Miriam spun around, her eyes wide with absolute terror as she pointed her pistol at my face.
She pulled the trigger—Click.
Empty. Her magazine was spent.
Before she could reach for a backup weapon, I rose to my feet like a wraith rising from the ashes of a battlefield, closed the distance in a fraction of a second, and knocked the gun from her hand with a sharp strike to her wrist.
She stumbled backward, hitting the wood-paneled bulkhead of the cabin, gasping for breath as I pinned her against the wall.
“You... you're a monster,” she whispered, trembling violently.
“No, Miriam,” I said softly, my voice like ice. “I’m just a father.”
Ten minutes later, the Gulfstream private jet touched back down on the Delaware airstrip—escorted down by two federal interceptor jets that had locked onto its transponder.
Federal agents swarmed the tarmac as the cabin door opened. Marcus and the team were waiting at the bottom of the stairs when I stepped out, carrying the encrypted briefcase handcuffed to Miriam’s wrist.
I handed the case and Miriam over to Director Vance, who stood by his federal unit with an expression of stunned awe.
“Elias... I don't even want to know how you managed to board a moving jet,” Vance shook his head, a wry smile crossing his face. “The Ouroboros network is crumbling worldwide as we speak. You actually did it.”
“My war is finally over,” I said quietly.
Two weeks later, the sun shone brightly through the large bay windows of my quiet home far away from the city.
Audrey sat on the porch rocking chair, wrapped in a warm blanket, sipping chamomile tea with a genuine, peaceful smile on her face as she watched the birds flutter through the garden. The scars—both physical and emotional—would take time to heal, but the haunted look in her eyes was gone forever.
I stepped out onto the porch, handing her a freshly baked pastry.
She looked up at me, taking my calloused hand and squeezing it tightly.
“Thank you, Dad,” she whispered softly.
May you like
I smiled, looking out past the open gates toward the horizon where the sun was rising in a brilliant blaze of gold.
“Always, sweetheart. Always.”
