The rain felt like needles against my skin as the silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

I didn’t lower my gun, but my eyes shifted to Nicholas. His side profile was carved out of stone, but I saw the slight, almost imperceptible tighten of his grip on the grip of his pistol.

“Nicholas?” I whispered, the word nearly swallowed by a crack of thunder overhead. “What is he talking about?”

Arthur took another slow step toward the edge of the porch, completely unbothered by the two gun barrels pointed at his heart. “My eldest son likes to play the knight in shining armor,” Arthur said, his voice dripping with smooth, venomous charm. “He wanted you to think he was your savior tonight, Emily. But Nicholas didn’t track Alex because he cared about your life. He tracked Alex because he needed Alex to fail.”

“Shut up, Arthur,” Nicholas growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Why should I?” Arthur chuckled. “She deserves to know who she’s standing in the rain with. Tell her, Nicholas. Tell her about the deal you made with me three months ago.”

I took a half-step back, positioning myself so I could see both of them. “Nicholas… look at me.”

Nicholas slowly turned his head. His dark eyes, usually so calculated and unreadable, held something raw and jagged. “Emily… it’s not what he’s making it sound like.”

“Is it true?” I demanded, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “Did you authorize the money for Chloe’s condo? Did you fuel Alex’s expansion?”

“I funded Chloe’s condo to give Alex enough rope to hang himself!” Nicholas said, his voice finally breaking its icy composure. “Six months ago, Arthur gave Alex the order to eliminate you and recover your father’s files. Alex was terrified, but he was greedy. I couldn’t stop Arthur from ordering the hit—Arthur controls the entire Vance infrastructure. The only way I could keep you alive was to push Alex into making his moves publicly, under my surveillance, where I could intercept them!”

“By letting him think he was getting away with it!” Arthur interjected smoothly. “By letting him plant the bomb at Montauk! By letting him sit across from Emily while she ate cold sea bass, believing her house was burning with her inside!”

“I pulled your dog out!” Nicholas snapped, turning back to his father, his gun trembling with rage. “I pulled her heirlooms out! My team cleared that house at four o’clock! I saved her life!”

“You used me as bait,” I said softly.

The words hung in the cold night air like a death sentence.

Nicholas looked back at me, horror flashing across his face. “Emily, no—”

“You used me as bait,” I repeated, the realization cutting deeper than any of Alex’s lies. “You knew Alex was going to try to kill me. You knew about the gas line. You didn’t stop him from setting the trap—you just waited until the last possible second to spring yours. You needed him to commit the crime so you could take control of the family estate from Arthur.”

“I did it to protect you and destroy him!” Nicholas argued, taking a step toward me, his hand reaching out. “If I had exposed him sooner, Arthur would have sent professional hitmen—the same ones who smashed through my brownstone tonight! You would be dead right now, Emily! I had to make Alex the focal point so Arthur would stay in the shadows!”

“And look where it got you,” Arthur mocked, raising the small black detonator in his hand. “A tearful reunion in the driveway. How touching. But you forgot one simple rule of the Vance family, Nicholas… never bring a gun to a system purge.”

Arthur pressed the red button on the device.

I braced for an explosion, but instead, a high-pitched electronic whine pierced the night. The dashboard of our SUV sparked violently, the screen going black as a sudden electromagnetic burst fried every circuit in the vehicle. Across the drive, the lights of the grand manor flickered and died, plunging the estate into pitch blackness, illuminated only by the rhythmic flashes of lightning.

“The flash drive,” I gasped, looking at the dead console.

“The remote upload was killed,” Arthur’s voice echoed through the dark. “Along with your primary server link. You came into my house thinking you were playing chess, children. But I built the board.”

Through the darkness, the heavy thud of tactical boots echoed from the surrounding treeline. Flashing red laser sights cut through the rain, pinpointing chest-level on both Nicholas and me. At least six armed guards emerged from the shadows of the woods, tightening the circle.

“Drop the weapons,” Arthur ordered from the shadowed porch. “Or this driveway becomes your mass grave.”

Nicholas looked at the laser dots covering his chest. Then he looked at me. The icy, brilliant strategist was gone. For the first time since I met him, Nicholas Vance looked utterly helpless.

“I’m sorry, Emily,” he whispered under his breath. “I really was trying to save you.”

I looked down at the compact handgun in my grip. I looked at the dark silhouette of Arthur Vance standing on his grand porch. And then I remembered my father—the marine who taught me that when you’re trapped in an ambush, you don’t fight the trap.

You break the trapper.

“Nicholas,” I murmured, my voice dropping so low only he could hear it. “When I say jump, drop to the asphalt.”

“What?”

“3…” I whispered.

Arthur stepped forward into a beam of moonlight, a smug smile on his face. “Last chance, Emily. Hand over your father’s physical storage key, and maybe I’ll let you live out your days in a quiet asylum.”

“2…”

Nicholas braced his legs, trusting me without understanding why.

I raised my gun—not at Arthur, and not at the guards. I aimed straight up at the massive, iron-and-glass vintage chandelier hanging from the roof of the grand porch directly above Arthur’s head, which was powered by a heavy backup generator humming on the side of the house.

“1…”

JUMP!

I pulled the trigger twice.

The bullets shattered the heavy brass support chains of the two-hundred-pound crystal chandelier. With a deafening screech of tearing metal, the massive fixture collapsed straight down, smashing onto the porch directly on top of Arthur and his two personal guards in a shower of heavy iron, flying crystal, and sparking high-voltage electrical wires.

The sudden crash and explosion of sparks blinded the perimeter guards’ night-vision gear.

“Now!” I screamed.

Nicholas dropped, swept the legs of the nearest guard as the man stumbled back, pulled the guard’s tactical blade from his vest, and drove it into his armor gap.

I didn’t wait to watch. I sprinted through the blinding rain straight toward the side of the manor where the backup generator was roaring, pulling a emergency road flare from my coat pocket—the one item I had grabbed from the SUV’s safety kit before we crashed the gate.

I struck the flare. Bright, blinding pink light burst into the night.

I slammed the burning flare straight into the open fuel line of the industrial generator.

BOOM!

A wall of fire tore through the side of the estate, lighting up the midnight sky, sending the remaining guards scrambling in chaos as the alarm sirens finally roared to life.

I turned around, breathing heavily, the flames reflecting in my eyes, to see Nicholas standing in the burning doorway of the manor, covered in rain and ash, staring at me in absolute shock.

Arthur was crawling out from under the wreckage of the chandelier, his face bloodied, his tailored suit torn to shreds, grasping frantically for his dropped detonator.

I walked past Nicholas, stepping over the shattered glass, and brought the heavy heel of my shoe down straight onto Arthur’s hand, crushing his fingers against the stone.

He shrieked in pain, looking up at me with terror in his eyes.

I knelt down, snatched the silver storage key resting inside his inner pocket, and looked the dead man in the eye.

“My father’s ledger isn’t in a storage unit, Arthur,” I whispered cold-bloodedly, leaning close to his ear so only he could hear. “He buried it in my head. And tomorrow morning, I’m taking your whole damn world down.”

Continue read next >>> PART  8