Chapter 9 - The Shattered Glass
I stared down the dark barrel of the hunting rifle, my exhausted mind completely short-circuiting.
“You killed Dad,” I whispered, the horrifying realization finally crashing down on me.
“Your father was a weak, sentimental fool who was planning to hand our entire empire over to the police,” my mother spat viciously.
She lowered the heavy rifle slightly, her cold eyes darting nervously toward the dark windows of the cabin.
“I didn't fake Julian's death to protect you, Clara,” she confessed, her voice devoid of any maternal warmth.
“I arranged the car bomb because Julian was stealing millions from our private offshore accounts.”
She paced nervously across the wooden floorboards, her expensive heels clicking loudly against the ancient wood.
“But Julian survived the explosion, and now he has partnered with the corrupt police union to destroy us.”
My mother suddenly reached into her coat pocket and tossed a thick leather passport wallet onto the dusty coffee table.
“Inside that wallet is a fake Canadian passport, fifty thousand in untraceable cash, and a set of coordinates,” she ordered.
“There is a private float plane waiting exactly three miles north of here at the edge of the lake.”
I looked at the life-saving documents on the table, completely paralyzed by my overwhelming distrust.
“Why are you suddenly helping me escape?” I demanded, clutching Elliot so tightly he squirmed in protest.
“Because if Julian gets his hands on his only blood heir, he will control the entire criminal syndicate forever,” she explained bitterly.
She violently shoved me toward the heavy wooden door, her sudden panic becoming frighteningly real.
“Take the plane, disappear to Europe, and never contact me again,” she screamed, raising the rifle toward the front window.
I grabbed the thick leather wallet, turned around, and put my hand firmly on the brass doorknob.
Before I could turn the handle, a blinding red laser beam cut silently through the darkness outside.
The massive front window of the cabin shattered inward with a deafening, terrifying explosion of glass.
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A high-caliber sniper bullet struck my mother squarely in the chest, throwing her violently backward into the blazing fireplace.
The terrifying sound of heavy combat boots immediately began crunching through the gravel driveway outside.
