Chapter 8
The armored vehicles came to a screeching halt beneath the portico of the Hudson estate. Within seconds, a half-dozen operatives in unmarked tactical gear swarmed out, securing the perimeter and clearing the shattered front entrance with practiced military precision. The team leader, a weathered Swiss veteran named Hans Meyer, strode into the foyer, his sharp eyes taking in the unconscious mercenaries bound securely with zip-ties near the stairs.
Elena walked down the staircase, her utility jumpsuit dusted with drywall and soot, her sidearm safely holstered at her hip. She looked exhausted, but her posture remained ironclad.
"Good response time, Hans," Elena said, offering a curt nod.
"We were already moving assets into the tri-state area when Julian’s automated ping went off two nights ago," Hans replied in accented, clipped English. He glanced down at the bound mercenaries with obvious disdain. "Sterling is getting sloppy. Sending local cleanup crews means he’s panicking. He knows the federal audit is closing in."
"Panic makes men dangerous," Elena said firmly, leading him into the library where Mrs. Gable and Clara had just emerged from the panic room. Clara was smiling, chewing happily on a teething ring, entirely unaware of the violence that had just transpired a few dozen feet away. Mrs. Gable looked pale, but resolute.
"Take Mrs. Gable and Clara to the safehouse in Vermont immediately," Elena instructed, turning to Hans. "I’m staying here. If I leave now, the board will obtain a default seizure judgment against Vance Maritime by sundown."
"Elena, that’s suicide," Hans argued, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Marcus Sterling has bought half the federal judges in the Southern District. If you stay, they won't send mercenaries next time; they’ll send federal marshals with a fabricated arrest warrant."
"Let them try," Elena replied, a dangerous glint in her dark eyes. "I have the flash drive. The data is already being mirrored to secure servers in Zurich, London, and Tokyo. If anything happens to me, an automated kill-switch will release every illegal arms manifest and money-laundering ledger directly to the Department of Justice and major news outlets."
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Hans studied her face for a long moment, recognizing the absolute resolve in her expression. He gave a slow, respectful nod. "Understood. The baby and Mrs. Gable will be in Vermont within three hours. And my team will secure this estate from the inside out. No one gets within a mile of this house without my say-so."
As Hans moved to coordinate the transport, Elena walked over to the bay window, watching the armored vehicles disappear down the winding drive. The war had escalated from corporate boardroom maneuvering to open physical warfare. But she held the ultimate leverage, and she was ready to deliver the final blow to the Sterling dynasty.
