Chapter 13 - The Final Stand
The massive glass windows of the study exploded outward as a second figure crashed through the frame, rolling across the Persian rug and coming up with a weapon drawn. It wasn't an assassin sent by Beatrice; it was Marcus Vance, followed closely by Clara, who was half-carrying a terrified Sophie in her arms.
"Julian, get away from her!" Marcus shouted, raising his firearm toward the figure standing behind Beatrice’s desk.
Julian blinked against the driving rain blowing in through the shattered windows, realizing a second too late that Beatrice hadn't been talking to an unseen assassin on her comms headset—she had been broadcasting to an entire network of corporate shareholders waiting outside.
Through the shattered window frames, the harsh headlights of three black SUVs cut through the stormy darkness of the front lawn, illuminating the manicured gardens with an eerie, clinical glare. Several armed security guards in tactical gear were pouring out of the vehicles, advancing steadily toward the shattered double doors of the mansion.
"The board is here," Beatrice hissed, breaking free from Julian’s weakened grip and stumbling backward toward the hidden safe panel in the wall paneling. "The research cannot leave this estate. If I can't protect the legacy, no one will."
Clara dropped to her knees beside Julian, wrapping her arms protectively around Sophie as Marcus took cover behind the heavy oak desk, returning fire toward the approaching tactical guards in the hallway.
"Julian, the master terminal!" Clara cried out, pointing frantically to a hidden keyboard built into the side of the mahogany desk. "If you don't lock down the corporate network right now, they will upload the genetic data externally!"
Julian didn't hesitate. He scrambled across the floor, ignoring the chaos erupting around him, and slammed his hands onto the desk keyboard. The screen flickered with endless rows of cryptographic code scrolling at blinding speed.
"I don't know the master encryption key," Julian yelled over the deafening sound of gunfire echoing from the hallway.
"Use Emily’s birthday combined with the date of the foundation's establishment," Clara shouted back, firing a secondary pistol Marcus had tossed her toward the doorway.
Julian’s fingers flew across the mechanical keys, entering the sequence with frantic precision. The screen flashed red, then yellow, and finally settled into a solid, piercing green.
SYSTEM SECURED. DATA TRANSFER HALTED.
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Beatrice screamed in absolute rage, lunging toward the desk with a hidden stiletto blade drawn from her boot. But before she could reach Julian, a heavy crash echoed from the foyer as the front doors were kicked off their hinges by federal law enforcement reinforcements led by local authorities drawn by the gunfire.
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