Chapter 7 - The Trap

I stood frozen on the concrete floor as Arthur’s betrayal washed over me.

“You?” I whispered, unable to comprehend the sheer scale of the deception.

“Julian is just an arrogant boy playing business,” Arthur mocked, fixing his expensive tie.

“I am the one laundering cartel money through your beautiful little boutiques.”

“Julian just handled the logistics because he thought it would make him rich.”

Arthur held his hand out toward me expectantly.

“Hand over the flash drive, Avery, and I will make this quick.”

Marcus raised his gun, aiming it directly at my head.

I looked frantically around the massive warehouse for a way out.

We were standing near a towering rack of heavy wooden shipping crates.

I noticed an industrial forklift parked just behind Marcus, its forks loaded with tons of counterfeit merchandise.

“You’re going to spend the rest of your life in federal prison, Arthur,” I stalled.

I slowly reached into my designer purse, pretending to grab the flash drive.

Instead, my fingers wrapped around a small emergency flare gun I kept for my yacht.

“Prison is for poor people, Avery,” Arthur laughed cruelly.

I whipped the flare gun out of my purse and pulled the trigger instantly.

I didn't aim at them.

I aimed directly at the highly pressurized hydraulic hose on the forklift.

The flare struck the rubber hose, causing it to violently rupture with a deafening hiss.

The hydraulic pressure failed completely in less than a second.

Tons of heavy wooden crates came crashing down from the ceiling directly onto Marcus.

He screamed as the crushing weight pinned him to the concrete floor, knocking the gun from his hand.

Arthur stumbled backward, screaming in terror as the merchandise buried his enforcer.

I didn't hesitate for a single second.

I turned and sprinted toward the massive loading dock doors at the back of the warehouse.

I slipped outside into the freezing night air, completely abandoning my car.

I ran across the massive shipping yard, weaving between towering steel cargo containers.

I could hear Arthur yelling frantically for security over a radio in the distance.

I needed a place to hide until the police arrived.

I saw a dark blue shipping container with its heavy doors slightly cracked open.

I squeezed inside, pulling the heavy steel door shut behind me.

I fell to the floor in the pitch-black darkness, gasping for air.

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Suddenly, a loud, metallic clank echoed from outside the container.

Someone had just dropped a heavy steel padlock onto the door.