Chapter 6 - The Emerald Trap
The cold barrel of the suppressed pistol glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights of Bay 4. The woman in the emerald-green gown— Beatrice—smiled coolly, taking a slow drag from her cigarette before exhaling a thin cloud of blue smoke into the damp air.
"Step out where I can see you, Julian," Beatrice purred, her finger resting dangerously close to the trigger. "And bring the little maid with you. Don't make this messy. The board has authorized terminal clearance for anyone who knows about the St. Jude’s breach."
Julian didn't move. His muscles were coiled like steel springs, calculating the distance between their hiding spot and the armored SUV. Ten feet of open concrete. In standard conditions, he could cross it in a heartbeat. But with a trained shooter holding the high ground near the vehicle, moving out into the open was a calculated gamble with very low odds.
"You’re working for a dead enterprise, Beatrice," Julian called out, his voice echoing steadily through the loading dock. "The SEC has already seized Vance-Pharma’s primary servers. Your offshore accounts were frozen twenty minutes ago."
Beatrice’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second—a micro-expression that did not go unnoticed. Her hand twitched slightly on the grip of the firearm. "You’re bluffing, Vance. You always were an arrogant bastard who thought his money made him invincible."
"Check your encrypted messaging app," Julian replied, stalling for time while his fingers subtly brushed against the heavy fire axe mounted on the wall inside the utility alcove. "The federal indictment was filed under seal an hour ago. Vivienne and Celeste are already compromised. If you pull that trigger, you take the fall for a multi-billion-dollar corporate homicide conspiracy all by yourself."
Clara stared at Julian in stunned silence, her mind struggling to comprehend the sheer scale of the danger they were in. She looked down at her hands—hands that had scrubbed hotel toilets just an hour ago—and realized those same hands were now linked to a global conspiracy.
Beatrice’s eyes darted toward her own diamond-encrusted wristwatch, her panic growing despite her icy exterior. "You lying piece of—"
Before she could finish the sentence, Julian shattered the glass housing of the fire alcove with his elbow, grabbed the heavy red axe, and hurled it across the loading bay with terrifying precision.
The spinning steel blade didn't hit Beatrice; it struck the industrial fire suppression pipe directly above her head, severing the high-pressure valve. A deafening roar filled the dock as thousands of gallons of freezing water erupted downward, instantly blinding Beatrice in a torrential downpour and knocking her flat onto the wet concrete.
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"Run!" Julian roared, grabbing Clara by the waist and launching them both out of the alcove and straight toward the driver’s side door of the armored SUV, just as the heavy security doors at the far end of the loading dock began to screech open, revealing a second wave of armed operatives rushing toward them.
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