Chapter 6 - The Penthouse AmbushTime seemed to fracture into razor-sharp pieces.
My mind screamed at me to run, to scream for Chloe, to smash the window, but my legs felt rooted to the Persian rug. The masked intruder stepped out of the shadows, closing the distance between us with terrifying, silent speed.
"Don't scream," the man hissed, the muzzle of the silenced pistol steady as a rock. "It makes things messy. And Edric specifically requested that you and your sister be delivered cleanly."
"How... how did you get in here?" I choked out, my fingers frantically searching behind my back for anything heavy—a book, a lamp, anything. "The building has armed security! The lobby requires biometric clearance!"
The man let out a cold, cynical chuckle. "Security guards can be paid off, Faye. Or in your security detail's case, knocked unconscious in the basement garage twenty minutes ago. Now, walk toward the hallway. Your twin sister is waiting in the living room."
Chloe.
The instant her name crossed his mind, every ounce of paralyzing fear evaporated, replaced by a surge of pure, primal adrenaline.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," I spat, my voice dropping its tremor.
The intruder snarled, lunging forward to grab my arm with a grip like a vice.
Instead of pulling away, I threw all my weight downward, using his own momentum against him, and drove the sharp heel of my expensive birthday shoe straight down into the top of his foot.
Crack!
The man roared in pain, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second. I didn't hesitate. I spun around, smashing my elbow backward with every ounce of strength I had left, catching him squarely across the jaw.
He staggered back, cursing fiercely, raising the pistol to strike me across the head—
Bang!
A dull, suppressed thud shook the air. A bullet shattered the glass window inches from my shoulder, showering the floor with glittering shards.
"Faye! FAYE!"
Chloe’s terrified voice echoed from the hallway outside my bedroom door, followed by the frantic sound of running footsteps.
"Chloe, NO! GET BACK!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
The masked intruder shoved me violently aside, sending me crashing hard into the mahogany dresser. My vision swam with black spots as I hit the floor. The man stepped over my body, raising his weapon toward the bedroom doorway as Chloe burst into the room.
Chloe stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening in horror as she saw the armed man standing over me.
"Let her go," Chloe whispered, her voice trembling, yet filled with a fierce, unwavering defiance that mirrored our father's spirit. She didn't hesitate for a single second. She reached behind her back, pulled out a heavy crystal decanter she had grabbed from the dining cart, and hurled it with terrifying precision straight at the intruder's face.
Smash!
The heavy crystal shattered across the man's mask, blinding him momentarily as glass and amber liquid sprayed across the floor.
"RUN, CHLOE! RUN!" I yelled, scrambling across the floor to grab his ankle.
The intruder roared in fury, shaking me off like an annoying insect, and swung the heavy butt of his pistol downward toward Chloe’s head.
"Chloe!" I screamed, lunging forward to intercept the blow—
CRASH!
The entire mahogany bedroom door was suddenly ripped completely off its hinges, collapsing inward in a cloud of splinters and dust.
Standing in the shattered doorway wasn't a security guard. It wasn't Uncle Alan.
It was a towering, broad-shouldered man in a federal tactical vest, badge gleaming brightly in the moonlight, flanked by four heavily armed FBI agents with assault rifles raised.
"FBI! DROP YOUR WEAPON! DROP IT NOW!"
The intruder froze, his pistol hovering mid-air. He looked at the assault rifles pointed directly at his chest, slowly lowered his weapon, and dropped to his knees with his hands locked behind his head.
As the agents swarmed the room, pinning the intruder to the floor and snapping heavy steel cuffs onto his wrists, a familiar, calm figure stepped through the ruined doorway.
Uncle Alan walked in, brushing dust off his charcoal suit jacket. He looked down at Chloe and me, tears finally spilling over his eyelids as he dropped to his knees and pulled both of us into his arms.
"Are you girls okay? Did he hurt you?" Alan choked out, burying his face against our shoulders.
"We're okay, Uncle Alan," I whispered, holding Chloe tight as we finally let go of every tear we had held back all night. "We're okay."
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Little did the intruder know, and little did Edric realize from his maximum-security cell, that Uncle Alan hadn't just been our protector—he was a retired senior director of federal intelligence who had spent the last three years playing the longest, most dangerous chess game of his life.
And checkmate was about to be delivered.
