Chapter 10 - The Rooftop Sniper
The blinding glare of the high-intensity floodlight pierced the night, turning the dark garden into a stage of stark shadows and bright white light. Elena froze, her hands raised slightly as she shielded her eyes. Sarah collapsed onto the damp grass, sobbing uncontrollably into her muddy apron.
Footsteps crunched heavily on the gravel path behind them. Marcus stepped into the beam of light, his dark suit immaculate despite the chaos of the evening. He didn't look out of breath. He looked entirely calm, holding the scorched leather portfolio loosely in his right hand.
"You really don't know when to quit, do you, Elena?" Marcus said, his voice carrying an eerie, quiet menace as he approached them.
Elena kept her back pressed against the cold iron bars of the perimeter fence, her breathing shallow and ragged. She could feel the dull, persistent ache in her abdomen growing stronger with every passing second.
"You won't get away with this, Marcus," Elena said, her voice trembling but fierce. "Detective Vance knows I'm here. The state police will tear this house apart brick by brick."
Marcus laughed, a smooth, condescending sound. He stopped a few feet away, holding up the charred portfolio. "Detective Vance is currently tied up in the basement right alongside David. By the time anyone outside our payroll realizes he's missing, you and your little bastard child will be long forgotten."
Clara walked up beside her son, her face flushed with anger. She raised her hand and slapped Elena across the face with a sharp, stinging crack that echoed in the quiet garden. Elena’s head snapped to the side, a metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.
"That is for daring to defy this family," Clara hissed, her eyes wild with malice.
Marcus didn't stop his mother. Instead, he reached into his jacket, pulled out a small silver lighter, and flicked the wheel. A small flame danced in the darkness. He held it close to the edge of the remaining legal documents inside the portfolio.
"Let's end this charade," Marcus said coldly, bringing the flame down toward the paper.
"No!" Elena screamed, lunging forward.
Before Marcus could touch the flame to the paper, a sharp, piercing whistle cut through the air, followed by a loud metallic ping. A bullet struck the concrete pathway an inch from Marcus’s shoe, sending sparks flying in all directions.
Marcus dropped the lighter in shock, stumbling backward. Everyone spun around to look toward the dark tree line beyond the fence.
Emerging from the shadows of the ancient oak trees was a second figure, holding a long-range rifle casually across his chest. In the faint moonlight, Elena recognized the rugged face and sharp eyes immediately. It wasn't the local police. It was Julian’s long-time business partner and loyal friend, Thomas, whom Clara and Marcus thought they had successfully bought off months ago.
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"Drop the papers, Marcus," Thomas commanded, his voice deep, steady, and echoing with absolute authority across the lawn.
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