Chapter 18 - Glass and Shards
The conservatory was located on the northern wing of the ridge, suspended over an eighty-foot rocky drop into the churning mountain river below. Its arched glass panels were designed to let in the winter sun, but tonight, they reflected the flickering flames of the burning south wing.
I slipped through the shadows of the gallery, keeping low behind marble busts and overturned display cabinets. Two mercenaries lay unconscious or dead in the hallway, their weapons scattered—Julian’s handiwork.
Inside the conservatory, the air was cold. The mountain wind howled through dozens of shattered glass panes.
In the center of the room, Julian knelt behind a heavy concrete planter, his left shoulder drenched in dark crimson. His breathing was shallow, his face deathly pale, but his right hand still held his pistol locked on the main double doors. Blood pooled beneath his knee on the white mosaic tile.
“You always were stubborn, Julian,” Alexander’s voice drifted from the shadows near the entrance.
Alexander stepped through the doorway, holding a custom black Kimber 1911 casually at his side. He didn’t wear body armor; he wore his arrogance like armor instead. Behind him, two hulking operatives kept their rifles raised, covering Julian from both angles.
“You could have had half the Vanderbilt trust,” Alexander said, shaking his head with theatrical regret. “We could have ruled the eastern seaboard together. Father built an empire of blood, and you wanted to turn it into a charity ward for broken women.”
Julian spat blood onto the floor, his lips peeling back in a savage grin. “Father was a parasite. And you’re just the maggot feeding on his corpse, Alexander.”
Alexander’s expression hardened. He raised his weapon, aiming directly at Julian’s forehead. “Insults from a dead man carry no weight. Where is the girl?”
“She’s gone,” Julian rasped. “Far out of your reach.”
“Then you have outlived your usefulness, little brother.”
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From the shadows behind the towering palm trees, I raised the nine-millimeter with both hands. My arms shook for a fraction of a second, then went completely still. I remembered Julian’s voice in the bedroom: *Center mass.*
I squeezed the trigger.