Chapter 8 - The Cornered Rat
Morning broke over the city, washing the skyscrapers in a cold, unforgiving light. Elias Vance sat in the VIP lounge of the international airport, sipping a mimosa. He had a first-class ticket to a non-extradition country in his pocket.
He checked his phone for the hundredth time. No word from Kael. That meant one of two things: Kael had succeeded and was laying low, or Kael was dead. Either way, Vance wasn't taking any chances. He was leaving.
He smiled to himself. He had lost the gallery, but he had skimmed enough to live like a king in South America. Beatrice Sterling was likely dead in her bed, and the Vanguard Trust would be thrown into chaos.
"Flight 409 to Buenos Aires is now boarding at Gate 12," the intercom announced.
Vance stood up, grabbing his bespoke leather duffel bag. He straightened his tie, feeling a surge of arrogant victory. He had beaten them.
He walked out of the VIP lounge, making his way toward the gate. The terminal was crowded with morning commuters and tourists. Vance navigated the sea of people with his usual air of superiority, pushing past a family with a stroller without apologizing.
He handed his boarding pass to the attendant at the gate.
"One moment, Mr. Vance," the attendant said, scanning the ticket. The machine beeped, flashing a red error code. "I'm sorry, sir, but your passport has been flagged."
Vance’s heart skipped a beat. "Flagged? That's impossible. Run it again. Do you know who I am?"
"We know exactly who you are, Elias."
The voice came from behind him. It didn't belong to the gate attendant.
Vance froze. The color drained from his face entirely. He turned around slowly.
Standing in the middle of the terminal, parting the sea of travelers like a modern-day Moses, was Beatrice Sterling. She wore a flawless, tailored cream suit, resting her weight on a silver-tipped cane. And standing directly behind her, like an imposing shadow of death, was Silas.
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"You..." Vance whispered, his voice trembling. "How..."
"You are a remarkably sloppy criminal, Mr. Vance," Beatrice said, her voice carrying an elegant, lethal calm. "Did you truly believe you could send common thugs into my home and expect me to simply disappear?"
