Chapter 11 - The Second Explosion
The shockwave from the second explosion hit the banquet hall like a physical wall, throwing Graham off his feet and sending him crashing hard against the wooden shelving inside the linen closet. Glass, smoke, and debris flew through the air in a chaotic whirlwind. Arthur Pendelton stumbled backward, dropping his silenced pistol as he grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling.
"What the—?" Arthur shouted over the deafening roar of sirens wailing outside on the street below.
Graham didn't hesitate. Seizing the fraction of a second where Arthur was disoriented, Graham pushed himself up off the floor, lunged forward with every ounce of remaining strength, and tackled the older man hard around the waist. They crashed out of the closet and slammed onto the carpeted floor of the main banquet hall, rolling over and over amidst the shattered crystal and ruined table settings.
Arthur fought back with surprising, wiry strength, his hands clawing at Graham’s throat, trying to cut off his air supply. "You arrogant fool!" Arthur choked out, his face turning purple with exertion. "You could have had everything—wealth, power, immunity! Instead, you chose to die with a dead man's child!"
Graham grabbed Arthur’s wrists, straining every muscle in his arms to keep the deadly grip away from his neck. He could hear little Chloe crying out from inside the closet, her tiny voice piercing through the chaos of the burning room.
"I chose my family, Arthur!" Graham roared back, summoning a surge of pure adrenaline that allowed him to pin Arthur’s shoulders flat against the floor. With a swift, decisive strike, Graham brought his fist down hard across Arthur’s jaw.
The CFO's head bounced off the marble floor with a dull crack, his eyes rolling back into his head as he went completely limp, unconscious.
Graham lay panting heavily over the motionless body of the man who had betrayed everything he loved. He slowly stood up, wiping blood and soot from his face, and rushed back into the linen closet to scoop little Chloe up into his arms. The toddler buried her face in his neck, sobbing softly as Graham carried her out into the smoky hallway.
Waiting for them at the broken service entrance was Detective Miller, his gun drawn, coughing through the thick grey smoke as he held a radio in his other hand.
"Mr. Vance! Are you and the child alright?" Miller yelled over the wailing sirens outside.
"We're out! Arthur is unconscious in the ballroom!" Graham coughed, holding Chloe tight. "What about the bomb in the basement?"
Miller’s face turned grim. "Bomb squad arrived just in time to disarm it with three seconds left on the clock. But look outside, Mr. Vance. You need to see this."
Graham carried Chloe toward the shattered window overlooking the front entrance of the Grandview Hotel, where dozens of police cruisers, fire trucks, and unmarked federal vehicles had formed a massive perimeter. And standing right in the middle of the cordoned-off street, surrounded by federal agents, was a familiar figure wrapped in a heavy grey trench coat.
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It was Julian.
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