Chapter 7 - The Breach
"FBI! NOBODY MOVE!"
Dozens of heavily armored federal agents poured into the room through the shattered windows and the main doors. Laser sights danced across the chests of Arthur, Marcus, and Greg.
"Drop your weapons! Get on the ground!" the lead agent roared.
Marcus panicked. He reached for a pistol tucked into his waistband, aiming blindly at Sarah.
Before he could pull the trigger, Thomas Vance—who had infiltrated the perimeter with Sarah’s Navy squad—tackled Marcus to the floor. The gun went off, the bullet burying itself harmlessly in the ceiling. Thomas drove his knee into Marcus’s spine, securing his hands behind his back with zip-ties.
"Resisting federal arrest," Thomas growled in Marcus’s ear. "That's another ten years, you piece of garbage."
Arthur Sterling sat frozen behind his desk, staring in absolute disbelief as his empire crumbled in a matter of seconds. Two agents yanked him out of his leather chair, slamming him against the oak paneling to cuff him.
"You have no jurisdiction here!" Arthur screamed, his aristocratic composure entirely shattered. "I own this town!"
"You own nothing," U.S. Attorney David Vance said, walking through the shattered doors, stepping over the broken glass. "As of three minutes ago, a federal judge signed a complete asset seizure order. Every dime you have belongs to the United States government."
Greg had dropped to his knees the moment the FBI breached. He looked up at Sarah, tears streaming down his face.
"Sarah, please," Greg sobbed, reaching out a hand toward her. "I was scared! They made me do it! I'm your husband!"
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Sarah looked down at the man she had once loved. The man who had turned up the television while their son was tortured.
"You aren't a husband. And you certainly aren't a father," Sarah said, her voice echoing with absolute finality. "Enjoy federal prison, Greg."
