Chapter 7 - The Sniper’s Mandate
The red laser dot remained locked dead-center on Marcus’s chest, casting a sinister glow against the polished leather of his silver briefcase. Marcus slowly lowered his arms, his eyes darting frantically toward the dark tree line where the unseen sniper was stationed. The Sterling & Thorne lead agent emerged from the shadows near the pool house, his service weapon drawn and pointed squarely at Marcus’s head.
“Sterling & Thorne tactical division,” the lead agent announced, his voice slicing through the heavy night air with absolute authority. “Hands where we can see them, Marcus. You’ve run out of dead names to hide behind.”
Marcus let out a low, humorless chuckle, though the sweat beading on his forehead betrayed his mounting panic. He glanced sideways at Julian, who stood frozen with grief and fury.
“You think these mercenaries are going to save you, Julian?” Marcus taunted, his voice dropping into a venomous hiss. “The federal freeze orders are just digital paper. The real wealth—the bearer bonds, the offshore holdings, the physical gold—is already being loaded onto a cargo flight out of Van Nuys airport. By sunrise, Vance Global will be completely bankrupt, and you’ll share the blame.”
Julian stepped forward, ignoring the warning shouts of the federal agents. He closed the distance between himself and his brother, his fist clenched so hard his knuckles bled where he had grazed the stone pillar earlier.
“You ruined our father’s legacy,” Julian growled, his voice trembling with years of suppressed betrayal. “You used his death as a cover to loot everything he built.”
“Father knew!” Marcus shouted back, his composure finally cracking as desperation took over. “He helped me set up the Cayman accounts before his heart attack! He was going to cut you out entirely because you were too soft to run the syndicate!”
Clara watched the confrontation unfold, her breath catching in her throat. The illusion of high-society glamour had completely shattered, revealing a rotten core of greed, familial betrayal, and corporate crime. She silently backed toward the iron gates, hoping the chaos would provide an opening for her to slip away into the suburban night.
“Don’t move, Miss Hayes,” the lead agent barked without turning his head, clearly sensing her movement. “You are still a material witness to an active federal seizure.”
Clara stopped dead in her tracks, her chest heaving with frustration and fear. “I’m a college student!” she cried out, her voice breaking under the immense pressure. “I have a chemistry midterm at eight o’clock tomorrow morning! I don’t care about your syndicate or your billions!”
Marcus grinned maliciously, seizing the moment of distraction. With a sudden, violent motion, he hurled the heavy silver briefcase directly at the lead agent’s face and sprinted toward the dark perimeter wall.
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“Stop him!” Julian roared, breaking into a full sprint after his twin.
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