THE WEDDING VEIL OF SILENCE: HOW ONE WHISPER UNRAVELED A HUSBAND'S DARKEST SECRET

The bullet slammed into the hood of the cruiser with a deafening metallic clang, showering Marcus—who had just stepped out of the driver’s side—with hot shrapnel and sending him sprawling backward into the muddy gravel.

“Get down!” Arthur roared, abandoning his advance toward the jet and diving into a tactical roll behind the heavy steel frame of a rusted fuel truck parked near the tarmac edge.

Clara dropped to her knees in the mud, her breath coming in ragged, terrified gasps. She could see the door of the private jet sealing shut, the amber cabin lights glowing like an unreachable beacon against the dark, stormy sky. Lily was inside that plane, drifting further away with every second they remained pinned down by an unseen sniper.

Arthur peered around the wheel of the fuel truck, his eyes scanning the treeline where the muzzle flash had originated two hundred yards away.

“Professional grade suppressor, subsonic round. That wasn't just one of Julian’s thugs—that’s a corporate hitman,” Arthur muttered, pulling his encrypted tactical radio from his belt. “All units, this is Vance. We have an active sniper at the old county airstrip, runway four. Requesting immediate tactical air support and perimeter lockdown!”

Only static crackled back through the tiny speaker, accompanied by a high-pitched electronic whine that indicated their communications were being actively jammed.

“They’ve cut our comms,” Marcus groaned, clutching his shoulder where a jagged piece of fiberglass had sliced through his shirt. He dragged himself behind the fuel truck alongside Clara and Arthur, his face pale from shock and blood loss.

Arthur’s jaw tightened into a rigid line. He looked down at Clara, seeing the fierce, unyielding fire burning in her tear-streaked eyes.

“We can’t wait for backup, because backup isn't coming tonight,” Arthur said grimly, sliding an extra ammunition magazine across the wet concrete toward Clara. “Can you handle a Glock?”

Clara stared at the matte-black weapon resting in the mud. She had never fired a gun in her life, but as she thought of Lily crying alone on that plane, something inside her shifted from fear into cold, unbreakable steel. She reached out, her fingers closing firmly around the textured grip.