Chapter 12 - The Back Gate
The chilling text message seemed to freeze the blood in Julian’s veins. He stared at the glowing screen as the phone screen automatically locked itself, plunging the display back into darkness.
"We are coming inside," the words echoed in his mind.
Julian didn't hesitate. He spun around and sprinted down the hallway toward the master staircase, taking the steps two at a time with reckless speed. He reached the ground floor just as a heavy, metallic thud echoed from the rear service entrance near the kitchen.
Someone was testing the reinforced steel latch of the back door.
Julian raced through the dining room, past the untouched white tiered cake standing under the glittering chandelier, and burst into the brightly lit kitchen. The stainless steel appliances gleamed coldly under the overhead recessed lighting.
He lunged toward the heavy back door, throwing the deadbolt across with a sharp, echoing snap just as another heavy impact slammed against the exterior wood, rattling the frame in its moorings.
"Who's out there? Identify yourself or I'm calling the police back!" Julian shouted, his voice ringing with fierce determination despite the adrenaline surging through his veins.
There was a brief pause on the other side of the heavy door. Then, a low, muffled voice responded through the reinforced security panel.
"The police are busy with Elena downtown, Mr. Vance. Open the door. We just want what belongs to the firm," the voice said, entirely devoid of emotion.
Julian’s grip tightened on the brass handle. "You're not getting anything. The files are already in the hands of the authorities."
"The files on the server are encrypted mirrors, Mr. Vance. But the physical ledger in the wall safe downstairs contains the names of our investors," the voice replied smoothly. "And since the vault door was left open by your retired friend Arthur... we can simply walk in and take it ourselves."
Julian realized the terrifying truth in an instant. The vault down in the basement hadn't been fully secured after the police and Arthur left. In the chaos of Elena’s arrest, the heavy steel door had been left on its latch, and these operatives had been waiting for the exact moment to slip past the perimeter.
Before Julian could formulate a response, the sound of a cutting torch began to whine softly against the exterior metal hinges of the back door—a high-pitched, metallic screech that smelled faintly of burning iron and synthetic grease.
Julian spun around, scanning the kitchen for anything he could use to barricade the doorway. Heavy oak chairs, a rolling butcher’s block, the stainless steel utility cart—he dragged them all into a chaotic pile against the service entrance, stacking them high to buy precious seconds.
His phone buzzed again in his pocket. It was Arthur.
Julian pulled the phone out with one hand while holding a heavy butcher's block in place with the other, swiping the answer button with his thumb.
"Julian! Listen to me very carefully," Arthur’s voice barked through the speaker, breathless and laced with genuine panic. "The people at your back door aren't corporate fixers. They're private contractors hired by Elena’s silent partners. If they get into that basement safe..."
A sudden, deafening crash interrupted Arthur mid-sentence, followed by the sound of breaking glass from the front foyer.
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Julian froze. The back door was just a diversion. They had broken in through the front.
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