Chapter 8 - Race Against the Clock"Drive!" I yelled, throwing myself into the passenger seat of the black SUV as Dominic slammed the transmission into reverse, tearing rubber across the wet concrete of Pier 42.
The dashboard clock glowed a menacing red: 3:42 AM. The countdown timer from the warehouse terminal was synced to our phones—11 minutes and 40 seconds until the Rosetti estate was wiped off the map.
"The roads are clear, but we won't make it back in time at normal speed," Dominic snarled, his knuckles white as he whipped the steering wheel around a sharp corner, sending the heavy vehicle into a controlled drift that smelled of burning rubber. "The bypass is a twelve-minute drive."
"Then take the old freight railway line," I said, pointing out the window toward an abandoned industrial spur running parallel to the highway. "It cuts straight through the ravine. It'll shave off at least four minutes."
Dominic didn't hesitate. He jerked the wheel hard to the left, crashing through a rusted chain-link fence and launching the SUV directly onto the gravel railway bed. The vehicle bounced violently, suspension groaning in protest as we rocketed forward like a runaway freight train through the pouring rain.
"Why would Elena do all of that?" I shouted over the deafening roar of gravel kicking up against the undercarriage. "She played the maid for three years!"
"She wasn't just a cryptographer's apprentice," Dominic yelled back, his eyes glued to the dark tracks ahead. "She was Viktor Vance’s younger sister. Her real name isn't Elena. It’s Elena Vance. She planted herself in my house the day after Eva died, waiting for Lily to grow old enough to unlock the bracelet."
My stomach dropped. "The bracelet... Lily’s silver wolf bracelet isn't just jewelry. It's a physical key, isn't it?"
"It’s the biometric master key to the vault beneath the nursery," Dominic confirmed, his face grim. "The vault where Eva’s original, unencrypted ledger is stored. If Protocol Omega succeeds, the entire estate—and the vault—will be leveled. No evidence left behind."
"And Lily?" I asked, my voice cracking with sudden terror.
"They don't care about the collateral," Dominic growled, slamming his foot harder on the gas pedal as the mansion's iron gates finally loomed ahead through the sheets of rain.
7 minutes remaining.
The SUV smashed through the reinforced gates, sending iron bars flying in all directions as we tore up the winding cobblestone driveway.
The estate looked like a war zone. Smoke was still rising from the west wing from the previous night's attack, and the main security lights flickered erratically.
Dominic slammed on the brakes, throwing the car into park before it had even fully stopped. We leaped out, sprinting toward the grand front entrance.
The heavy oak doors were blown inward. Inside, two loyal guards lay unconscious on the marble floor.
"They're already inside," Dominic hissed, drawing his pistol. "They bypassed the panic room."
"Go!" I urged him. "Find Lily! I'll secure the nursery corridor!"
"Noah, wait—!"
I didn't listen. I bolted up the grand staircase, ignoring the agonizing burning sensation in my chest, my mind fixed entirely on one thing: the little blonde girl who had whispered Daddy in the dark alley just days ago.
When I reached the second-floor landing, the heavy reinforced door to the nursery was blown completely off its hinges.
Standing in the center of the nursery, holding a terrified, crying Lily in his arms while pressing a cold knife to her throat, was a tall, scarred man wearing a tactical vest covered in black viper insignia.
It wasn't Viktor.
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It was a man I had never seen before—older, colder, with eyes dead as shark skin.
"Drop the weapon, Mr. Hayes," the man commanded in a silky, cultured voice. "Or the little bird's story ends right here."
