Chapter 5 - The Locked Cage
The air in the subterranean vault felt suddenly thin, as if every ounce of oxygen had been sucked out by the heavy steel walls. Chloe stared at Arthur, her mind reeling from the casual cruelty in his voice. Her brother—alive? Marcus was bringing him here? The pieces of the nightmare she had fled five years ago were snapping back together with horrifying precision.
“You’re lying,” Chloe breathed, backing away until the edge of a display case bit into her hip. “My brother is dead. The police recovered his car at the bottom of the cliff outside the city limits. There was a body.”
Arthur chuckled softly, a dry, grating sound that lacked any real humor. He walked back to his desk, pulled open the center drawer, and extracted a thick manila folder stamped with a red CLASSIFIED banner. He tossed it onto the glass top.
“Police reports can be written by the highest bidder, my dear,” Arthur said, picking up his glass again. “Just like forensic dental records can be swapped when the coroner owes a favor to the Vance family trust. Your brother wanted out of the family business, so we staged an exit. But loyalty isn't something you can just walk away from. He owes a debt, and since he couldn't pay, you inherited the balance.”
Chloe looked down at the manila folder. Her hand trembled as she reached out and flipped open the cover. Inside was a recent photograph of her brother, sitting at a metal table in a white-walled room, looking thin and pale, but undeniably alive. Stamped across the corner of the photo was yesterday’s date.
“Why?” Chloe whispered, a tear finally escaping her eye and tracking a slow path down her cheek. “Why keep him? Why go through all this trouble just to trap me tonight?”
“Because,” a voice interrupted from behind her, “the Vance estate needs a legitimate heir, and the bloodline must be unified.”
Chloe whipped around. Marcus stood by the steel door, and right beside him, blinking against the harsh light, stood a man in a rumpled gray suit—a man with her exact facial structure, her exact eyes. It was her brother, David, looking at her with a look of profound, silent apology.
“David?” Chloe gasped, taking a step forward.
David raised his cuffed hands, the heavy iron links clinking together in the quiet vault. “I’m sorry, Chloe,” he whispered hoarsely. “They said if I didn't lure you here tonight, you wouldn't survive the night. And now... neither of us will.”
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Before Chloe could reach her brother, the heavy steel door swung open again, and three armed men in black tactical gear stepped into the room, cutting off any possibility of escape.
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