Chapter 6 - The Setup
Mira froze completely, staring at the bloody knife gripped tightly in Tariq's large hand.
The ruthless security chief did not look surprised to see them drop from the ceiling.
In fact, he looked incredibly pleased by their sudden, dramatic arrival in the royal chambers.
"Perfect timing, Your Highness," Tariq mocked, bowing sarcastically toward the terrified girl.
Samir clutched his bleeding shoulder and glared fiercely at the treacherous security chief.
"You murdered the King," Samir stated, his voice trembling with a mixture of grief and raw rage.
Tariq casually wiped the bloody blade on the expensive, white silk bedsheets.
"No, Samir, the official report will clearly state that you and this rogue maid assassinated him."
Tariq reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, incredibly loud security whistle.
He blew it fiercely, alerting every single royal guard in the entire eastern wing of the palace.
"You have exactly two minutes before an army of guards breaches those doors to avenge their King," Tariq laughed.
He stepped backward onto the private balcony and effortlessly vaulted over the stone railing to escape.
Mira knew they were perfectly framed and completely trapped in the lavish bedroom.
She rushed over to the heavy oak doors and shoved a massive wooden dresser desperately in front of them.
Fist began pounding aggressively on the outside of the doors, accompanied by angry, demanding shouts.
Samir slumped heavily against the wall, entirely exhausted and slowly dying from his untreated wound.
"Leave me here, Mira, you have to survive to claim the throne," Samir pleaded weakly.
Mira aggressively refused to abandon the only person who had actually tried to protect her tonight.
She looked down at the silver key still clutched tightly in her trembling, wet hand.
She noticed for the very first time that the head of the key had a tiny, almost invisible seam.
She twisted the top of the key fiercely, and the metal cap unexpectedly popped entirely off.
Hidden securely inside the hollow compartment of the key was a tiny, modern microchip.
Mira spotted the King's personal, highly secure computer terminal sitting on the mahogany desk.
She rushed over, plugged the tiny microchip into the port, and desperately accessed the hidden files.
The screen illuminated brightly, displaying extremely detailed, undeniable military deployment plans.
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Tariq was not just a corrupt guard, he was a foreign spy orchestrating a massive, violent military coup tonight.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the bedroom splintered completely under the aggressive blows of a battering ram.
