Chapter 27 - The Match is Lit
I slipped through the side door of the workshop.
The interior was illuminated by a ring of portable construction floodlights arranged in a circle around my workbench. Standing in the center of the room was Eleanor Vance, her tailored suit now stained with soot, holding a heavy plastic gasoline container.
And tied to a sturdy oak support pillar near the back storage racks was Nora.
Her mouth was taped gently to keep her from screaming, her eyes wide with terror, tears streaming down her pale cheeks as she caught sight of me.
"Daddy!" she muffled through the tape, straining against the heavy zip-ties securing her wrists to the wood.
"Let her go, Eleanor!" I roared, leveling my weapon straight at her chest, my finger trembling on the trigger. "Step away from her right now!"
Eleanor stopped pouring the fuel, the plastic jug tilting down as she turned slowly to face me. Her expression wasn't panicked; it was the look of a fanatic who had nothing left to lose.
"You should have signed the papers, Ethan," Eleanor said calmly, tossing the empty gas container aside. "You thought you could dismantle a sixty-year institutional network with a few laptop backups and a friendly private investigator. You have no idea how deep the roots go."
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"She’s six years old!" I shouted, taking a step forward. "This has nothing to do with your trusts or your appellate bench! Let my daughter go, and I swear to God I'll walk away from all of it!"
"There is no walking away," Eleanor said, pulling a heavy brass cigarette lighter from her pocket and flipping the cap open with a sharp clack. "The syndicate doesn't leave loose ends. My brothers failed because they underestimated you. I won't make that mistake."
