Chapter 6

The first glass pane of the conservatory didn’t just break; it disintegrated into a million diamond-like shards that rained down on the rare orchids.

"Roderick! My ears! My actual ears are ringing!" Elias scrambled behind a massive stone planter, his hands over his head.

"Stay small, Elias! Don't move until I tell you!" Roderick fired three suppressed rounds toward the dark silhouette swinging through the ceiling. "Tessa, if you value your life, crawl into the potting shed and stay there!"

"I’m already halfway there!" the journalist shrieked, her voice muffled by the foliage.

Another shadow dropped from the rafters, boots hitting the marble floor with a heavy thud. Outside, the sky finally opened up, a torrential downpour slamming against the remaining glass panels.

"Roderick, there’s another one by the ferns!" Elias hissed, pointing a trembling finger. "And he’s wearing night-vision goggles! That’s so unfair! We don't have goggles!"

"We have me. That’s enough," Roderick growled. He lunged forward, grabbing Elias by the collar of his singed tuxedo and dragging him toward the side exit. "We’re going into the gardens. The conservatory is a glass coffin."

"But it’s pouring! My hair is a delicate ecosystem, Roderick! It’s not meant for monsoon conditions!"

"Your hair will look great at your funeral. Move!"

They burst through the heavy oak doors and into the storm. The rain was a wall of grey, instantly soaking them to the bone. The mud of the meticulously manicured estate began to churn beneath their feet, turning the lawn into a swamp.

"Oh, God. It’s in my shoes. Roderick, the mud is inside my shoes. This is a hate crime against Italian leather."

"Zip it, Elias! We need to reach the hedge maze. It’s the only place I can break their line of sight."

"The maze? You want to go into the maze in a thunderstorm? That’s literally how every horror movie ends! Why don't we just run to the garage?"

"Because there’s a helicopter hovering over the garage, you idiot! Look up!"

A searchlight cut through the rain, sweeping across the lawn like the eye of an angry god. Roderick tackled Elias into a flowerbed just as the light passed over them.

"Stop breathing so loud," Roderick whispered, his face inches from Elias’s.

"I’m hyperventilating! It’s a physiological response to being hunted by a private army! Give me a break!"

"Listen to me. There are at least six of them on the ground. Professional. Mercenaries. I recognized the tactical formation."

"Six? Only six? I’m hurt. I thought I was worth at least a dozen."

"Keep that ego in check. We’re moving. Now. Stay on my heels."

Roderick stayed low, navigating the edge of the garden where the shadows were deepest. Elias followed, tripping over a rosebush and letting out a muffled yelp.

"The roses have thorns, Roderick! Who knew? Why are they so aggressive?"

"They’re plants, Elias. Focus on the people with guns."

They reached the entrance of the Great Storme Maze, a towering labyrinth of emerald-green yew that stood ten feet high. Inside, the wind died down, but the rain turned the narrow paths into slick trenches of sludge.

"Vantrell! I know you're in there!" A woman’s voice, sharp and amplified by a megaphone, echoed over the thunder. "Don't make this difficult! Give us the asset and maybe I'll let you keep your legs this time!"

Roderick froze, his grip tightening on his pistol.

"You know her?" Elias whispered, his eyes wide. "She sounds... intense. Is she an ex? Please tell me you didn't dump a mercenary."

"Her name is Elise Harrow," Roderick muttered, pulling Elias deeper into the maze. "We were in the same unit. She’s cold, she’s efficient, and she’s a better shot than I am."

"Oh, fantastic. My bodyguard’s rival is the one trying to kill me. This is just a classic Tuesday for the Storme family."

"I'm not going to let her near you."

"You said she's a better shot! That’s not very reassuring, Roderick! I want a refund!"

"I said she was a better shot. I’ve had more practice lately. Now, get behind that bench."

Roderick scanned the area. He could hear the rhythmic squelch of tactical boots on mud. Two of them. Closing in from the left.

"Roderick? What are you doing?" Elias asked, watching as Roderick reached out and grabbed a heavy, stone garden gnome sitting on the edge of a fountain.

"I’m improvising."

"With a gnome? That’s Gunter! He’s been in the family for three generations!"

"Gunter is about to serve his country," Roderick said. He looked at Elias, his expression softening for a fraction of a second. "When I move, you stay here. Don't make a sound. If you hear shooting, don't look. Just stay down."

"Roderick, wait—"

Roderick didn't wait. He checked the corner, then hurled the heavy stone gnome toward a cluster of ceramic pots twenty feet away.

CRASH.

"Target spotted! Sector B!" a voice shouted.

Two mercenaries rounded the corner, their rifles raised, focused entirely on the source of the noise.

Roderick didn't give them a chance. He stepped out from the shadows of the hedge, his pistol barking twice in rapid succession. Both men went down—non-lethal hits to the shoulders and legs, enough to take them out of the fight but keep the noise to a minimum.

"Sorry, Gunter," Elias whispered from behind the bench.

"Stay put," Roderick commanded, reloading his magazine.

"Vantrell! That was sloppy!" Elise’s voice was closer now. "Using lawn ornaments? You’ve gone soft protecting that billionaire brat!"

"He’s not a brat!" Roderick shouted back, his voice echoing through the maze to mask his actual position. "He’s a client! And you’re trespassing, Elise!"

"I'm collecting a paycheck! Five hundred thousand, Roderick! Think of the retirement we could have had!"

"I prefer my retirement without the war crimes!"

Roderick grabbed Elias’s arm, hauling him up. "We need to move. She’s tracking my voice."

"She mentioned a retirement," Elias panted as they sprinted through a series of turns. "Were you two... involved? Is this a lover's quarrel? Because I really don't want to be the third wheel in a domestic dispute involving high-caliber rounds."

"We were partners, Elias! Nothing more!"

"You sound defensive! That usually means there was at least a kiss or a very meaningful look over a sniper rifle!"

"Will you shut up and run?"

They reached a dead end. Roderick cursed, looking at the towering wall of yew.

"Dead end! We’re going to die in a cul-de-sac of shrubbery!" Elias leaned against the hedge, gasping for air. "I can't do it, Roderick. My lungs are made of champagne and bad habits. Go on without me. Tell my tailor I loved him."

"Get up, Elias. I’m not leaving you."

"But she’s right there! I can hear her boots! She’s going to come around that corner and—"

Suddenly, the sound of the helicopter intensified. The searchlight swept directly over their path, illuminating the rain like a strobe light.

"Down!" Roderick shoved Elias into the mud, covering him with his own body.

A volley of gunfire chewed through the top of the hedge, leaves and twigs raining down on them.

"She’s not playing anymore," Roderick hissed. He looked at the wall of the maze. "Elias, I need you to climb."

"Climb? On what? There are no stairs!"

"On me! Get on my shoulders, grab the top of the hedge, and pull yourself over. There’s a maintenance path on the other side."

"I’m going to ruin this tuxedo completely, aren't I?"

"Elias, now!"

Roderick braced himself against the hedge. Elias scrambled up, his muddy shoes digging into Roderick’s shoulders.

"You’re very sturdy! It’s like climbing a very angry mountain!"

"Hurry up!"

Elias reached the top, swinging a leg over. "I’m over! I’m—oh, wow, the view is actually quite lovely from here. You can see the whole—"

"Get down!"

Roderick leaped up, grabbing the branches and hauling himself over just as Elise Harrow rounded the corner. She fired a burst, the bullets thudding into the wood where Roderick’s head had been a second before.

They tumbled down the other side, landing in a heap on a gravel path.

"Ouch. My dignity," Elias groaned.

Roderick was already on his feet, his gun aimed at the hedge. But the footsteps on the other side stopped. The sound of the helicopter began to fade, the engine noise receding toward the forest.

"She’s pulling back," Roderick whispered, his chest heaving.

"She is? Why? Did she realize I’m too charming to kill?"

"No. She’s smart. She knows the local police are five minutes out. She’s not going to get caught for a half-million-dollar contract."

Roderick walked back toward the edge of the hedge, his eyes searching the mud. He spotted something—a small, black rectangular object half-buried in the silt. He picked it up with a gloved hand.

"What is it? A trophy? Did she leave you a love note?" Elias asked, wiping mud from his forehead.

"It’s a burner phone," Roderick said, his voice turning cold. "She dropped it during the pursuit."

He pressed the home button. The screen glowed, showing a single missed call and one unsent text message.

"Who’s it to?"

Roderick looked at the contact name on the screen. His jaw tightened until it looked like it might snap.

"Dorian Westfall," Roderick read aloud.

Elias went very, very still. The playfulness vanished from his face, replaced by a pale, hollow mask of shock.

"Dorian?" Elias whispered. "But... he’s my father’s business partner. He’s the one who set up my trust fund. He’s practically family."

"Well," Roderick said, pocketing the phone and looking at the smoke rising from the conservatory in the distance. "It looks like 'family' just tried to have you erased from the ledger."

Elias looked down at his muddy, ruined clothes, then back at the dark maze. "I think... I think I’d like to go home now, Roderick. Not the mansion. Just... somewhere else."

"I’ve got you, Elias," Roderick said, reaching out and steadying the socialite with a hand on his shoulder. "We’re going. And this time, we’re the ones going on the offensive."

"Roderick?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we stop for a burger? I’m starving. Attempted murder always makes me crave carbs."

Roderick sighed, the first hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, Elias. We can get a burger."