Chapter 9 - Glass and Gunpowder
Screams erupted as board members dived under mahogany tables, covering their heads as heavy tactical smoke canisters rolled across the polished floor, spewing thick, choking gray clouds. Glass crunched beneath heavy combat boots as masked operatives dropped through the shattered window frames like wraiths.
Julianna dropped to the floor, rolling behind the heavy marble base of the boardroom podium just as a stream of automatic gunfire chewed through the back of her leather chair.
“David!” Clara shrieked, crawling frantically toward the main doors only to find them locked from the outside.
Through the swirling smoke, a tall figure in a black tactical vest strode forward, grabbing Clara by the back of her designer jacket and hoisting her to her feet with brutal efficiency. It wasn’t a syndicate thug. It was Richard, his face bruised and smeared with soot, holding a heavy-caliber service pistol in his right hand.
“Richard? What are you doing?” Clara sobbed, coughing from the smoke as she clawed at his arm. “Help me! Get us out of here!”
Richard looked down at her with dead, empty eyes. The handsome, spoiled heir was completely gone, replaced by a desperate survivor willing to sell out anyone to save his own skin.
“Shut up, Clara,” Richard snarled, shoving her hard against the wall near the emergency stairwell. “My grandfather left everything to the trust, and you and your father helped David steal it. Now we’re going to finish what was started twenty-five years ago.”
Julianna peeked around the marble podium, her heart hammering against her ribs. She saw David Vance scrambling on hands and knees toward the private elevator, clutching his briefcase containing the forged merger documents.
Marcus materialized out of the smoke beside Julianna, coughing into a handkerchief, holding a heavy iron pipe he’d scavenged from the hall.
“He’s heading for the rooftop helipad,” Marcus rasped, wiping soot from his eyes. “If he gets off the grid with those documents, the board will legitimize his takeover by sunset.”
Julianna rose smoothly from her hiding spot, the pearl-handled letter opener gripped tightly in her right hand, her eyes locked on Richard and Clara across the room.
“He’s not making it to the roof,” Julianna said coldly, sprinting past the shattered windows toward the private elevator shaft.
Marcus grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back just as a fresh volley of bullets splintered the doorframe.
“Wait, Julianna! Look at the security monitors on the desk!”
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Julianna glanced down at the flashing console. The live feed didn’t show the helipad. It showed the basement vault where the original Sterling family vault was located—and the vault door was already swinging open.
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