Chapter 9 - THE ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN"Claire, get down!"
Blake didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. With explosive force, he shoved Claire sideways behind the thick stone base of the fountain just as a sharp, piercing crack echoed across the plaza.
A bullet slammed into the stone pillar inches from Claire’s head, chipping off a spray of gray marble dust.
Screams erupted across the park. Tourists scattered in a panic, dropping shopping bags, strollers, and cameras as they scrambled for cover.
"Isla!" Claire shrieked, terror gripping her heart as she realized their daughter was still out in the open near the path.
"Stay here!" Blake commanded fiercely, his eyes blazing with a lethal, protective rage that dwarfed anything Marcus had ever imagined.
Blake didn't have a weapon, but he had something much more dangerous: absolute, unyielding fury. He burst out from behind the fountain, sprinting across the open pavement toward the stone archway where Marcus stood holding a suppressed pistol.
Marcus raised the barrel, aiming directly at Blake’s chest with a twisted, manic grin. "You should have stayed in your penthouse, Blake!" he shouted over the chaos. "An empire can't survive without its king, and you're about to abdicate permanently!"
Before Marcus could squeeze the trigger a second time, a second set of shouts echoed from behind the trees.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP THE WEAPON!"
Two plainclothes federal marshals—part of the elite security detail Blake had quietly kept stationed around his family at all times—burst out from the tree line, their weapons drawn and training lasers locked dead onto Marcus's chest.
Marcus cursed violently, realizing he was trapped. He spun around, trying to bolt toward the wooded embankment leading down to the lake, but his foot caught on a jagged root protruding from the soil.
CRACK.
A sickening snap echoed through the air as Marcus tripped hard, tumbling violently down the steep, rocky embankment and crashing face-first into the shallow, muddy edge of the lake.
Within seconds, the federal marshals were on top of him, pinning his arms behind his back and slapping heavy steel cuffs onto his wrists for the second time in six months.
Blake stood panting at the edge of the embankment, watching as Marcus was hauled out of the mud, groaning in pain with a broken wrist and a bleeding forehead.
"Take him to a maximum-security medical facility," the lead marshal told his team, looking up at Blake. "And don't worry, Mr. Hamilton. This time, his trial will be expedited, and he's never seeing daylight again."
Blake nodded slowly, running a trembling hand through his hair.
As the commotion settled, a small, tear-stained face appeared from behind the stone fountain.
"Daddy?" Isla whispered, her lower lip trembling as she ran toward him, throwing her small arms around his waist. "What was that loud noise? Was that thunder?"
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Blake dropped to his knees, scooping Isla up into his arms and burying his face in her dark curls, holding her so tightly his arms ached. "No, sweetheart. Just a bad storm passing by. It's gone now. It's all gone."
Claire hurried over, dropping to her knees beside them and throwing her arms around both of them, tears of relief streaming down her face as they held onto each other in the golden autumn sunlight.
