Chapter 13 - The Three-Minute Countdown
The green loading bar on the cabin monitor crawled steadily across the screen: 78 percent... 79 percent... 80 percent...
Adrian lay pinned to the floor under Detective Vance’s heavy boot, his chest pressed hard against the carpet. He could see Clara out of the corner of his eye, her tear-filled eyes locked onto his with a desperate plea that he refused to let go of.
"You're not going to get away with this, Sterling," Adrian strained against the handcuffs, his voice muffled by the carpet fibers. "Federal authorities already know about the airfield."
"Let them come," Sterling replied, taking another sip of his bourbon as he stared out the window at the dark expanse of the ocean far below. "By the time federal radar picks us up over international waters, our corporate identity will be completely scrubbed, and your family will simply be reported as missing persons who never made it onto the flight manifest."
"You wouldn't hurt a child," Adrian growled.
Sterling didn't answer. He just turned his back, watching the progress bar tick upward: 91 percent... 92 percent... 93 percent...
Adrian’s mind raced. He remembered the heavy gold signet ring resting in his back pocket—the one he had slipped off the floor of the hospital room during the chaos. His hands were cuffed behind his back, but his fingers brushed against the hard metal edge of the ring tucked safely inside his denim pocket.
With a silent surge of adrenaline, Adrian twisted his body to the side, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder as he hooked his cuffed wrists downward, sliding his hand into his pocket and gripping the heavy ring.
"Stop moving!" Vance hissed, bearing down harder with his knee.
Adrian didn't stop. He dragged the ring out of his pocket and swung his bound hands upward in a violent arc, smashing the heavy gold signet ring directly into Vance’s shinbone with all his remaining strength.
Vance let out a sharp cry of pain, his grip loosening as he stumbled backward.
Adrian didn't hesitate. He scrambled to his feet, threw his weight against the nearest armed guard, and drove his cuffed hands straight into the man's chest, sending them both crashing through the cabin's emergency exit release lever.
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With a deafening roar of rushing wind, the heavy service door blew outward into the night sky, instantly depressurizing the cabin and sending loose papers, cups, and the digital recorder flying toward the open void.
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