Chapter 13 - The Dragon’s Lair
The private airstrip was tucked away among the rocky pine bluffs of the northern coastline, battered by driving rain and fierce Atlantic winds. A sleek Gulfstream corporate jet sat idling on the runway, its twin turbines whining with a deafening, high-pitched scream.
Eleanor Vance stood beneath a large black umbrella held by Marcus Kane, who leaned heavily on a polished cane, his leg tightly bound from the injury Julian had inflicted the night before. Eleanor wore a floor-length mink coat, her silver hair pristine, her face an unyielding mask of regal arrogance.
""Is everything transferred?"" she asked coldly over the roar of the jet engines.
""The federal marshals hit the bank ten minutes ago, Madam Vance,"" Marcus said, his voice strained with pain. ""Victoria and Arthur are in custody. Julian outplayed them.""
Eleanor didn't even blink. ""Victoria was always an expendable idiot. Once we land in Geneva, the Swiss jurisdiction will shield the remaining Vance family funds. Julian will inherit an empty shell and a mountain of corporate debt.""
""I wouldn't be so sure, Mother.""
Eleanor froze.
From behind the metal maintenance hangar, Julian stepped into the torrential downpour. He wore no coat now, just his rain-soaked dress shirt and trousers, his eyes burning with an ancient, unforgiving wrath.
Marcus instantly reached into his trench coat for his sidearm, but a sharp laser dot appeared directly on his forehead. High up on the fuel silo, Thomas stood braced against the iron railing, his sniper rifle trained unwaveringly on Marcus’s head.
""Drop it, Kane,"" Thomas’s voice crackled through a tactical megaphone. ""Or you won't live to see the trial.""
Marcus stared up into the darkness, swallowed hard, and slowly raised his empty hands, stepping away from Eleanor.
Eleanor turned slowly, looking at her only son with an expression of cold disgust. ""You always were soft, Julian. Just like your father. You let your emotions cloud your duty to this family. You chose a common girl, and when she died, you chose her bastard child over the dynasty I built.""
""Elena was my wife,"" Julian said, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her through the driving rain. ""And Lily is my daughter. A dynasty built on murder and cruelty isn't a family, Eleanor. It’s a cancer.""
""You have nothing!"" Eleanor spat, her aristocratic voice screeching above the wind. ""I created you! Every suit you wear, every case you won, every cent in your account came from my ingenuity! You think the law will protect you? I bought the judges who write the laws!""
Julian stopped two feet in front of her. The rain dripped from his chin, his hazel eyes completely devoid of the boy who had once sought her approval.
""You forgot one thing, Mother,"" Julian whispered softly.
Eleanor narrowed her eyes, her lip curling in a sneer. ""And what is that?""
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Julian pulled a small, water-resistant recording transponder from his collar, its blue light pulsing in rhythm with his voice. ""I didn't bring the federal court order to the bank. I brought an arrest warrant for high treason and conspiracy to commit murder. And every single word you just spoke was broadcast live to the three federal judges you thought you owned.""
Behind the jet, four heavy tactical vehicles smashed through the chain-link security gates, sirens blaring and blue-and-red strobes tearing through the rain.
