Chapter 7 - The Underground Escape
The bootlegger tunnel smelled of rot and ocean salt. Julian pulled a small, gold lighter from his pocket—a trinket he had swiped from a guest's coat earlier. He flicked it on. The tiny flame illuminated a terrifyingly narrow, collapsing dirt passage.
He ran. The air grew thinner, the damp cold seeping into his bones. He could hear the faint, muffled sounds of Victoria attempting to smash the wine rack down behind him, her rage echoing through the earth.
Julian’s lungs burned. His expensive dress shoes were ruined in the mud, and the oversized tuxedo jacket was heavy with dampness. But he held the manila envelope against his chest like a shield.
After what felt like hours, the tunnel began to incline. The smell of the ocean grew overwhelmingly strong. He saw a sliver of moonlight piercing the darkness ahead.
He pushed through a heavy curtain of dead ivy and tumbled out into the freezing night air.
He was standing at the base of the cliffs, the roaring Atlantic Ocean crashing violently against the rocks below. The Vance manor loomed high above him, a glittering beacon of corruption and lies.
Julian didn't stop. He scrambled up the steep, jagged rocks toward the private access road. His hands were cut and bleeding, his tuxedo torn to shreds.
He reached the asphalt just as a pair of headlights swept over him. It was a private security patrol car.
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Julian dove into the wet brush, holding his breath as the SUV rolled past slowly. They were looking for him. Victoria had mobilized the guards.
He had to get off the estate. He had to get to the city. He began to run down the winding, heavily wooded road, a lone, battered boy carrying the weight of a multi-billion dollar empire in his bleeding hands.
