Chapter 7 - The Shadow War
David’s screams faded down the private elevator shaft as Petrov’s men hauled him away into the dark underworld he had tried so hard to manipulate. But the room was far from safe.
"Mrs. Miller," Petrov said, pausing at the threshold of the elevator before leaving. "You are a woman of exceptional strength. But my associate, Victoria Vance, is still active. She controls the remaining assets of Vance Global. She knows you survived, and she will not leave any loose ends that could connect her to our late arrangement with your husband."
"Where is she?" I asked, my blood running cold.
"She boarded a helicopter from her private estate ten minutes ago," Petrov said. "Heading toward the harbor airfield. If she reaches international airspace, she will be beyond your reach—and she will spend the rest of her life hunting you and your child to protect her empire."
The elevator doors closed, leaving me alone in the wrecked penthouse.
My earpiece crackled to life. "Sarah! Do you read me?" Marcus’s voice sounded tense, breathless.
"I’m here, Marcus. David is gone. Petrov’s people took him."
"We have a major problem," Marcus yelled over the sound of a revving engine on his side. "Victoria’s mercenaries just hit the warehouse! They bypassed my security grid!"
My heart stopped beating. "Leo! Where is Leo?!"
"He’s fine! I got him out through the drainage tunnel before they breached the inner perimeter!" Marcus shouted. "We’re in the SUV, but two of her security vehicles are pursuing us down Route 9 toward the harbor airfield! She’s going to use the boy as leverage to escape!"
"I'm on my way," I said, sprinting toward the penthouse’s private garage exit.
I rushed down the fire stairs to the sub-basement where David kept his performance sports car—a high-powered black coupe equipped with a custom twin-turbo engine. The keys were still hanging on the peg board beside the private bay.
I jumped into the driver's seat, slammed the starter button, and the engine roared to life with a deafening snarl.
I tore out of the underground parking garage, the tires screaming against the wet concrete, launching the car out onto the rain-slicked highway at over a hundred miles per hour.
Through the windshield, the fog was beginning to lift, illuminated by the flashing crimson lights of emergency vehicles off in the distance. The city was waking up, entirely unaware of the silent war raging through its streets.
I pushed the accelerator to the floor, weaving through early morning traffic like a streak of black lightning.
Up ahead, through the mist, I saw the broad, metallic silhouette of the Harbor Bridge. Blinking red hazard lights and the sharp, piercing beams of high-intensity headlights marked a confrontation ahead.
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Marcus's heavy SUV was pinned against the guardrail of the bridge by two dark, armored SUVs.
And standing near the edge of the bridge deck, holding a silencer-equipped pistol, was Victoria Vance. Her luxury helicopter hovered low overhead, its rotors whipping the river below into a frenzy of white foam.