Chapter 7
The heavy glass panes of the conservatory doors shattered inward in a blinding cascade of diamond-shaped shards, spraying across the antique Persian rugs. Heavy combat boots hit the terracotta floor with military precision as six heavily armored corporate operatives poured into the sprawling greenhouse, their assault rifles raised and sweeping the shadows.
"Clear the lower gallery!" barked a gravelly voice from the lead operative, his face obscured by a matte-black ballistic mask. "Burn everything in the study. Leave no paper trail!"
From the shadows of the towering banana palms and weeping figs, Arthur and Lyra watched the intruders with absolute stillness. The humid air of the greenhouse smelled of wet earth and crushed orchids, thick and heavy with impending violence.
Arthur raised his hand, signaling the tactical agents positioned in the upper catwalks. The federal operatives didn't fire; instead, they deployed heavy-duty suppression nets from above, dropping them silently over the two rearmost corporate mercenaries and pinning them to the floor before they could raise their weapons.
The lead operative whipped around, his rifle barrel swinging toward the balcony, but Lyra stepped out from behind a massive marble planter, the brass key glinting in her hand under the green-tinted grow lights.
"You're looking for the wrong safe, Captain," Lyra said smoothly.
The operative froze, his finger tightening on the trigger as he recognized the pink hair and the torn silver gown. "Miss Vance. You should have stayed on the floor. Your husband—"
"Julian is a disposable pawn," Lyra interrupted, taking a slow, steady step forward. "Just like you."
Before the operative could pull the trigger, Arthur dropped silently from the catwalk directly behind him, wrapping a heavy steel cable around the man's throat and tightening it with a brutal, practiced jerk. The mercenary dropped his rifle, clawing frantically at the wire before collapsing unconscious onto the terracotta tiles.
The remaining three corporate operatives spun around, but the federal agents from the catwalk descended like spiders, subduing them in a lightning-fast flurry of close-quarters combat. Within thirty seconds, the entire extraction team was zip-tied and bleeding against the planters.
Arthur wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead, looking down at the unconscious leader. "They knew about the ledger. That means there's someone else inside the federal task force leaking our movements."
Lyra knelt beside the lead operative, sliding a secure comms earpiece out of his ear and pressing it to her own. Static hissed softly, followed by a calm, distorted voice speaking on an encrypted frequency.
“Vance Team Alpha, report. Have you secured the girl and the book? The Attorney General’s investigators are twenty minutes away from the main gate.”
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Lyra pressed the transmit button, her voice dripping with venom. "The book is safe. But you're going to have to come get it yourself, Uncle Marcus."
A sharp intake of breath hissed through the earpiece from the other end of the line, followed by a heavy, stunned silence.
