Chapter 7 - THE BROTHER'S TREACHERYBefore Wren could process the staggering weight of Viktor’s confession, the heavy glass window of Room 412 shattered inward in a shower of glittering shards.
Crash!
"Get down!" a voice bellowed from the hallway.
It wasn't Julian’s hitmen. It was a tactical squad led by Captain Miller, who had kicked his way through the adjacent supply room door. But right behind them, stepping over the threshold with a heavy-caliber automatic rifle raised and ready, was Julian Vance himself.
His face was twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.
"Well, look at the family reunion," Julian mocked, his eyes sweeping over Viktor, Wren, and the gray dog standing defensively in front of her. "The dying king, the framed nurse, and a mangy mutt. I must admit, Viktor, I thought you'd bleed out on the floor like a dog. Instead, you invited an audience."
Miller raised his service pistol, aiming directly at Julian’s chest. "Drop the weapon, Julian! You're surrounded. The entire perimeter is locked down by federal marshals."
Julian didn't even look at Miller. He kept his eyes locked on his older brother. "Federal marshals? Miller, you're a local beat cop playing in the big leagues. You don't have federal backing. You have a badge you bought with syndicate money."
Julian shifted the barrel of his rifle toward Wren.
"And as for the nurse..." Julian sneered, tightening his finger on the trigger. "She's been trespassing in a restricted medical wing. It’s amazing how easy it is for an ex-con to get 'shot while attempting to escape' after attacking a patient."
Patch lowered his head, his lips curling back to reveal yellowed teeth, a low, murderous growl vibrating deep within his chest.
Wren didn't flinch. She stepped forward, standing directly in front of Viktor’s bed, placing herself between the rifle barrel and the dying mob boss.
"You've killed enough people for one lifetime, Julian," Wren said, her voice steady and chillingly calm. "Marisol is dead. Viktor is dying. The ledgers are already in the hands of the state attorney general."
Julian’s face went pale. "You're lying."
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"I'm not," Wren replied, pulling the encrypted flash drive from her pocket—the one she had copied from the archive terminal twenty minutes ago. "Marisol didn't just hide a ledger in the warehouse. She backed up the entire network to an off-site cloud server that activates the moment my biometric login fails or succeeds at a secure terminal. The feds downloaded it ten minutes ago."
Julian let out a primal roar of fury, his finger tightening on the trigger of the assault rifle. "Then you all burn together!"
