Chapter 8 - The Strike
My lungs burned for oxygen, but the agonizing betrayal in my chest hurt infinitely more.
The man who had just defended my honor had been secretly paying a blood debt with my salary.
I had spent three years managing the wealth of the family that destroyed mine.
Thomas pressed his lips near my ear, whispering that I was going to die just like my worthless father.
That single sentence snapped something deep and primal inside my mind.
I was no longer the invisible secretary, and I refused to be a helpless victim.
I stopped fighting his arm and let my body go entirely limp, adding my dead weight to his grip.
Thomas stumbled forward to maintain his balance, his stance widening just enough.
I kicked my leg back with every ounce of strength I possessed.
The steel tip of my four-thousand-dollar stiletto buried itself deeply into his kneecap.
Thomas shrieked in absolute agony, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second.
I dropped to the floor instantly, covering my head with my arms.
The deafening roar of Larkin's pistol shattered the remaining silence in the room.
Thomas crashed to the floor beside me, a dark hole perfectly centered in his forehead.
The remaining mercenaries took one look at their dead employer and fled down the hallway.
I stayed on the floor, gasping for clean air, my elegant black dress now stained with Thomas's blood.
Larkin rushed to my side, dropping his weapon and reaching out to pull me into his arms.
I slapped his hands away viciously, crawling backward until my spine hit the desk.
I screamed at him, demanding to know if Thomas had told the truth about my father.
Larkin knelt among the broken glass, his dark eyes filled with a terrifying, hollow sorrow.
He quietly admitted that his father gave the order, but claimed he had spent the last three years trying to protect me from the rest of the syndicate.
I laughed hysterically, the sound bordering on madness.
Before I could hurl another accusation at him, the blaring wail of police sirens flooded the night air.
Floodlights pierced through the broken window, illuminating the bloody study in harsh blue and red light.
May you like
Agent Miller’s voice echoed through a megaphone from the street below.
He announced that the building was completely surrounded by the FBI, and ordered Larkin Steves to surrender immediately.
