Chapter 13
The caravan of black federal SUVs tore down the highway, their red and blue emergency lights flashing against the overcast afternoon sky. Elena sat in the back of the lead vehicle beside the lead federal marshal, her eyes fixed on the digital tablet displaying live satellite tracking of Julian Miller’s luxury sports car as it sped toward the coastal highway.
"We have units stationed at the docks and the municipal airstrip," the marshal said, keeping his eyes on the road. "He won't make it out of the state, Elena. But we need to secure the estate first. You said your sister is there?"
"Yes," Elena replied, her voice tight with anxiety. "Julian knows his empire is collapsing. He won't hesitate to silence anyone who can tie him to the murders."
Back at the Miller estate, Clara was not waiting passively in the locked guest suite. Using a heavy brass table lamp, she had smashed the ornate glass panel of the French doors leading out onto a private second-floor balcony. Shards of glass rained down onto the stone patio below as she climbed out onto the wrought-iron railing, ignoring the sharp pain slicing into her palms.
She dropped heavily onto the grass below, biting back a cry as a sharp pain shot up her ankle. Pushing past the throbbing ache, she limped frantically toward the underground parking garage where Julian kept his secondary communications array and emergency transport vehicle.
Inside the garage, the heavy security doors were already sliding open. Julian was packing a duffel bag filled with bearer bonds and passports into the trunk of his Mercedes when he heard a sharp gasp behind him.
He turned around to see Clara standing near the entrance of the garage, holding a heavy tire iron she had managed to pull from a maintenance rack. Her wedding dress was torn at the hem, her hands stained with blood from the balcony glass, but her eyes burned with an unyielding fire.
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"It's over, Julian," Clara said, her voice echoing off the concrete walls. "The federal marshals are already on their way. You have nowhere left to run."
Julian stared at her for a long, silent moment, his expression hardening into something cold and feral. He slowly closed the trunk of his car, reaching into his jacket. "You really should have stayed in the guest suite, Clara," he whispered, taking a slow step toward her with a heavy silver revolver gleaming in his palm.
