Chapter 9 : The Judas Protocol.

POV: Alexander

"You survived a car crash, Mark," I said. My voice was very quiet, very dry, despite the freezing rain starting to wash the helicopter soot off my face. "I dragged you out of a burning dock. And this is the check you wanted to cash?"

Mark wouldn't look me in the eye. He stared at his expensive leather shoes, the ones he bought with my money last Christmas. "It is just business, Chairman. You became a liability the second you let her back into the country. Vivian offered me ten percent of the logistics division. You were going to let the whole thing burn for a bastard kid who isn't even yours."

"He is mine," I growled, stepping forward. The federal agents immediately shoved their submachine guns into my chest, the steel cold against my ribs. "And you are a dead man, Mark. You just don't know it yet."

"Save it for the federal judge, Vance," the director of the security bureau barked, jerking my handcuffed wrists upward. "Get him in the car."

"Wait!" Elena screamed, throwing her body between me and the lead sedan. She was shivering, her hands clutching her lower stomach, her white shirt stained with red. "He didn't touch his grandfather! I was in Switzerland when Nathaniel died! I have the travel logs, I have the passport stamps!"

"We have the bank transfers, Dr. Lin," the director sneered, shoving her back. "Your private Swiss account received three million dollars from Nathaniel's estate forty-eight hours before his heart stopped. You poisoned him to get your alimony early, and Alexander covered it up to protect his stock price."

"No!" Elena sobbed, her fingers scratching against the wet glass of the police car as they shoved me into the back seat. "Alex!"

"Keep her away from the cars!" I roared through the glass, kicking the door panel until the metal groaned. "Mark! If you let them touch her, I will spend my last dollar to buy your head!"

Mark didn't answer. He got into the front seat of the lead sedan, the black tinted window rolling up, cutting off my view of the runway.

---

POV: Elena

The red and blue lights of the federal convoy flickered across the wet grass of the Sterling estate, leaving me standing in the mud with Leo.

Diana Sterling was standing ten feet away, her bodyguards holding a black umbrella over her silver hair. She didn't look at the burning helicopter behind us. She didn't even look at the mud on her designer boots.

"Well, Elena," Diana said, her voice completely smooth. "Your billionaire is going to a black-site prison. The federal prosecutor belongs to Vivian's mother. He won't survive the weekend."

"You did this," I whispered, my teeth chattering as I pulled Leo's wet head against my chest. "You called the federal bureau. You gave Vivian the exhumation records."

"I did what was necessary to protect the Sterling Group," Diana replied, stepping closer. "Alexander Vance is a wildcard. He would have dragged you into a street war with Astoria, and my company cannot survive a trade embargo. Now, get in the car. We have a medical suite ready for you in the basement."

"No," I said, backing away toward the burning wreckage. "I am not going anywhere with you."

"Mom," Leo whispered, his little fingers digging into my arm. "The man in the car... he had my watch."

I froze. I looked down at Leo's small, bare wrist. The blue digital watch, the one containing the only encrypted copy of the stem-cell cure, was gone.

"Mark," I choked out, my blood running completely cold. "Mark took it when he helped us out of the truck."

"Which means Vivian already has the synthesis key," Diana said, her gray eyes narrowing in the dark. "And she doesn't need you alive anymore, Elena. If you don't come with me right now, Vivian's hit squad will find you before the sun goes down."

Before I could answer, a loud, heavy hum vibrated through the air.

A massive, black armored transport vehicle, the kind used to transport gold bullion from the national bank, slid onto the wet grass, its tires tearing up the lawn. The rear doors flew open, and four men in civilian clothes, wearing heavy tactical vests, jumped out.

But they didn't aim their weapons at me.

They aimed them directly at Diana's bodyguards.

"On the ground! Now!" the lead soldier roared.

Diana's men instantly dropped their weapons, raising their hands in the air.

A tall man with a thick scar running down his left cheek stepped out of the front seat of the armored truck. He wasn't wearing a uniform, but he had a military posture that made my heart stop.

"Dr. Lin?" the scarred man asked, his voice rough. "My name is Logan. Your father, Arthur Sterling, paid me a very large retainer twenty years ago to monitor this estate."

"My father?" I stammered, holding Leo tighter. "He's dead."

"He's very much alive, ma'am," Logan said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, metallic silver locket. He popped it open, revealing a picture of me as an infant, sitting on a wooden porch in the coastal province. "He is currently waiting for you at the safe house in the eastern sector. He knew Diana would try to sell you to the Vances."

Diana's face went pale. "Logan? You were dismissed from the Sterling security detail ten years ago!"

"I was paid to disappear, Diana," Logan smiled coldly, pointing his weapon at her chest. "But Arthur paid me more to stay close. Dr. Lin, we have to move. The federal convoy carrying Alexander Vance isn't heading to the central prison."

"Where are they taking him?" I demanded, stepping toward the armored truck.

"The old shipping yards at Pier 4," Logan said, his eyes deadly serious. "Vivian's mother didn't just buy the federal director. She bought the execution warrant. They are going to stage an escape attempt and shoot Alexander before midnight. If we don't intercept that convoy in the next fifteen minutes, your husband is dead."

I didn't hesitate. I grabbed Leo, ran toward the open doors of the armored truck, and threw myself inside.

"Elena, wait!" Diana screamed behind us. "If you leave this estate, you lose your inheritance!"

"Keep the money!" I yelled back, slamming the heavy steel doors shut. "Logan, drive! Block the bridge!"

---

POV: Alexander

The federal transport van was bouncing violently over the rusted train tracks of the industrial district.

My hands were still cuffed behind my back, the heavy steel cutting into my skin. I sat on the metal bench, opposite the director of the security bureau, who was busy smoking a thick cigar.

"You look tense, Vance," the director smiled, blowing gray smoke into my face. "Don't worry. The report will say you fought bravely. We might even give you a nice burial next to your grandfather."

"Who paid you?" I asked, my voice flat. "Eleanor West doesn't have this kind of federal reach. She is a disgraced Astorian exile."

"She doesn't," the director admitted, leaning forward until his face was inches from mine. "But her new partner does. The man who bought your logistics division isn't a cartel boss, Alex. It's your brother."

I froze, the air in my lungs turning to absolute lead. "My brother is dead. He drowned in the lake when we were ten."

"That's what your grandfather told you to keep you hungry for the chair," the director laughed, tapping his cigar against the metal wall. "But Julian Vance has been living in Geneva for fifteen years, running the European division under an alias. He's the one who gave Elena the research grant. Five years ago, right before the contract. He's the one who engineered the whole thing to get you out of his seat."

The van suddenly slammed on its brakes, the tires screaming against the wet gravel.

I was thrown forward, my shoulder hitting the steel divider.

"What the hell is that?" the driver yelled from the front cabin.

Through the small wire-mesh window, I saw a massive black armored transport truck parked sideways across the narrow bridge, fully blocking the exit.

A woman stood on the hood of the truck, a heavy automatic rifle resting against her shoulder, her wet hair blowing in the wind.

It was Elena.

Bankrupt, pregnant, and she still came for me. God help anyone who gets in her way now.

She aimed the rifle straight at our windshield, her eyes filled with a terrifying, beautiful madness.

"Step out of the van!" her voice echoed through the metal hull, amplified by a megaphone. "Or I blow the engine block!"