Chapter 6 - The Setup
The silence in the SUV was deafening.
Mrs. Hess.
The terrified house manager who had warned Maeve that she wouldn't last 48 hours.
The woman who had shoved folders frantically into a briefcase before fleeing the manor.
“Hess sold us out,” Roman concluded, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
“She sold the security layout to the rival family and framed Uncle Carlo to cover her tracks.”
Declan cursed violently, hitting the steering wheel.
“We just executed a mercenary who claimed Carlo sent him.”
“If Carlo finds out we suspect him, he’ll launch a preemptive strike against us.”
“We’ll be fighting a war on two fronts.”
Maeve listened to the men unravel the conspiracy, her mind processing the information with quiet efficiency.
“If Mrs. Hess is working for a rival family, she’ll be waiting for confirmation that the hit was successful,” Maeve pointed out.
Gabriel looked at her, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face.
“She’s right.”
“Hess thinks we’re dead.”
Roman pulled out his phone again, his fingers flying across the keypad.
“I’m tracking her company cell phone.”
“She’s at a private airfield on the edge of the city.”
“She’s trying to flee the country.”
Declan slammed his foot on the gas, violently turning the heavy SUV around.
“Not today, she isn't.”
They sped toward the airfield, the rain turning into a torrential downpour.
Maeve gripped the door handle, her knuckles white.
She was a maid.
She was supposed to be scrubbing toilets, not riding shotgun in an armored vehicle hunting down a traitor.
But the sheer adrenaline pumping through her veins was intoxicating.
They arrived at the airfield thirty minutes later.
A small, sleek private jet was idling on the wet tarmac, its engines whining loudly.
Declan drove the SUV directly through the chain-link fence, ignoring the screeching metal.
He slammed the brakes right in front of the nose of the plane, completely blocking its path.
Roman, Declan, and Gabriel stepped out of the vehicle, weapons drawn.
Maeve stayed in the backseat, watching through the tinted windows.
The door of the private jet opened.
Mrs. Hess stepped out onto the top of the stairs, looking absolutely terrified.
But she wasn't alone.
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Standing behind her, holding an umbrella and a suppressed pistol, was a man wearing a sharp gray suit.
It was Uncle Carlo.
