Chapter 8 - The Confrontation
I stared into the open safe, my heart completely stopping in my chest.
Resting on the velvet shelf was my own personal handgun, the one I kept locked in my bedside table at home.
Before I could ask how Daniel got my weapon, the office lights flickered on overhead.
Vanessa stood in the doorway holding a suppressed pistol aimed directly at my chest.
"Daniel knew you were foolish enough to come back here, Clara," she smiled coldly.
"He stole your gun yesterday while you were at work."
"He placed it in the safe so when I shoot you for breaking in, the police will find your weapon and rule it self-defense."
Marcus slowly stepped in front of me, raising his hands in the air.
"You do not want to do this, Vanessa, the FBI already knows about the basement," Marcus lied smoothly.
Vanessa laughed, a sharp, cruel sound that echoed in the quiet house.
"The FBI doesn't care about a few missing teenagers, Marcus."
"Who do you think pays a million dollars a pint for pure, uncorrupted youth blood?"
"Our clients are the very politicians and judges who run the federal agencies."
She stepped closer, raising the barrel of the gun to aim directly at Marcus's head.
"Daniel handles the logistics, but I am the one who brokers the deals, and I do not leave loose ends."
She placed her finger on the trigger, her eyes devoid of any human empathy.
I knew I only had one split second to act before she executed the only person helping me.
I grabbed a heavy bronze bookend from the desk and threw it violently at the ceiling light.
The bulb exploded in a shower of sparks, plunging the room into total darkness.
The suppressed gun hissed, and a bullet shattered the window behind us.
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I tackled Vanessa to the floor, pinning her arm against the hardwood as she fought like a wild animal.
Marcus scrambled in the dark, finally kicking the weapon out of her hand.
