Chapter 8: The Shadow of Retribution
Victoria Vance did not return to the mansion. The moment her armored SUV left the county facility, she switched vehicles in an underground parking garage in Queens, ditching the court-ordered electronic ankle monitor with the help of a paid medical technician.
She had lost her reputation, her social standing, and her company in a single weekend. All that remained in her mind was the blinding urge to obliterate the girl who had orchestrated her downfall.
In the brownstone, Clara sensed the shift in the air. The street outside was unusually quiet. The federal protection car stationed across the street had its hazard lights blinking, engine idling with no driver in the front seat.
"Alvarez," Clara said, pointing out the second-story window. "Look."
Alvarez drew his service weapon, stepping toward the window frame. "Stay low. Now."
Before Clara could duck, a heavy impact shattered the rear patio door downstairs. Heavy, tactical boots moved fast across the hardwood floor. Victoria’s private mercenaries weren't there to negotiate; they were there to erase every witness before the federal grand jury could convene the following morning.
"Up the fire escape!" Alvarez ordered, firing two rounds down the hallway stairwell to suppress the incoming intruders. Gunfire echoed through the narrow brownstone, deafening and sharp.
May you like
Clara scrambled through the window onto the metal grate, the iron freezing against her palms. Rain slicked the steps as she climbed toward the roof, adrenaline burning through every nerve in her body.
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