Chapter 10: The Reckoning on the Bridge**
Julian sprinted through the mud, his polished leather shoes slipping on wet roots and slick rocks. The cold rain lashed his face, blinding him as he scrambled toward the old logging bridge that crossed the Blackwood Gorge.
The roar of the swollen river below sounded like thunder.
He reached the wooden span of the bridge, panting heavily, his fingers clawing at the soaked briefcase. Headlights suddenly flared at the opposite end of the bridge. Two state trooper cruisers blocked the exit, their red and blue strobes illuminating the sheets of rain.
"Julian Vance! Drop the briefcase and step away from the railing!" a loudspeaker blared.
Julian spun back toward the woods, but behind him, two more cruisers had already pulled onto the logging trail, cutting off his retreat.
Trapped in the center of the bridge, Julian looked down over the wooden railing. Fifty feet below, the black, churning waters of the gorge raged over jagged limestone boulders.
"Julian!" a voice called through the storm.
It was Marcus, walking slowly onto the bridge, his trench coat soaked through, hands open and empty at his sides.
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"It’s finished, son," Marcus said quietly. "Don't make this your final act."
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