Chapter 8 - The Vanguard Vault
The man holding the gun was Thomas Sterling, Vanguard’s ruthless head of security.
He had manipulated me perfectly, using my desperation for family against me.
"Put the baby on the ground, Daniel," Sterling commanded, aiming the gun at Noah’s head.
I carefully set Lily’s carrier on the wooden floorboards, my mind racing for a solution.
"You have the biometric key to the Carter vault, and we need it," Sterling sneered.
He stepped forward and violently grabbed my arm, pressing a strange scanning device to my palm.
The device beeped green, and Sterling smiled a truly evil smile.
"Thank you for your cooperation," he laughed, raising his pistol toward my chest.
Before he could pull the trigger, Noah threw his entire body weight backward in the chair.
The chair shattered against the floor, distracting Sterling for just a fraction of a second.
I lunged forward, grabbing Sterling's wrist and twisting the gun away from my body.
A muffled shot rang out, blowing a hole through the roof of the boathouse.
I headbutted Sterling right on the bridge of his nose, feeling the bone crunch under the impact.
He stumbled backward, dropping the gun and clutching his bleeding face in agony.
I scooped up the pistol, untied Noah quickly, and grabbed my daughter's carrier.
"We have to get to the estate before they empty the vault," I told Noah breathlessly.
We stole Sterling's armored SUV from outside the boathouse and sped toward my childhood home.
The old Carter estate was massive, sitting on a cliff overlooking the raging ocean below.
We crashed through the front gates, ignoring the blaring security alarms.
I rushed down into the wine cellar, where the hidden biometric vault was located.
The heavy steel door was already open, and the lights inside were flickering wildly.
I stepped into the vault, my gun raised and ready to fire at anyone inside.
The room was completely empty, and the safety deposit boxes had been ripped off the walls.
They had beaten me to the genetic patent documents.
Suddenly, I noticed a single pristine white envelope sitting in the middle of the empty room.
I walked over and picked it up with trembling hands.
It had my name written on it in perfectly looped, familiar handwriting.
May you like
I ripped it open and pulled out a single sheet of heavily embossed stationary.
The message read: "I always knew you would be too slow, little brother."
