Chapter 3 - The Traitor Within
The deafening crack of the gunshot sent everyone in the ballroom to the floor.
Vincent immediately drew his concealed weapon from his shoulder holster.
He pushed Emily and Grace behind a heavy marble pillar to shield them.
“Dom, what was that?” Vincent yelled over the sudden chaos.
Dominic was already moving toward the grand double doors, his own gun drawn.
“It came from the west wing, near Charles’s temporary office!” Dominic shouted back.
Vincent looked back toward the signing table.
Charles Bellamy was completely gone.
He had used the sudden distraction to slip out through the service corridor.
“Secure Isabella and the staff!” Vincent ordered Dominic.
Vincent sprinted out of the ballroom, moving with the lethal speed that had made him famous.
He navigated the familiar, dark hallways of his own mansion with practiced ease.
He reached the west wing and kicked the heavy oak door of the office open.
The room was in complete disarray.
Filing cabinets were ripped open, and papers were scattered across the floor.
But what stopped Vincent in his tracks was the body on the floor.
It was the security guard who had just reported the wiped servers.
He was bleeding heavily from a gunshot wound to the chest.
Vincent rushed over and applied desperate pressure to the wound.
“Who shot you?” Vincent demanded, checking the man’s fading pulse.
The guard coughed up blood and grabbed Vincent’s expensive suit jacket.
“It was Bellamy,” the guard choked out.
“He took the master key drive from the safe.”
The guard’s eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness completely.
Vincent swore loudly, realizing Charles had stolen the encrypted drive containing the syndicate’s financial secrets.
He stood up and checked the window.
It was wide open, the cold winter air rushing into the room.
Charles had jumped from the first-floor window and was making a run for the front gates.
Vincent climbed out the window and dropped onto the snowy lawn.
He sprinted toward the main driveway, following the fresh footprints in the snow.
He saw Charles fumbling with the heavy iron gates, trying to unlock the pedestrian exit.
“Stop right there, Charles!” Vincent roared, aiming his weapon at the lawyer’s back.
Charles froze, slowly raising his hands in the air.
He turned around, shivering in the freezing cold without his coat.
“Vince, you don't understand what you are dealing with,” Charles pleaded desperately.
“Give me the drive and tell me where my wife is,” Vincent demanded coldly.
Charles let out a dark, broken laugh.
“She is already dead, Vince,” Charles whispered.
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“And if you don't let me go, they are going to kill you next.”
Before Vincent could pull the trigger, a sleek black SUV crashed violently through the iron gates.
