Chapter 2 - The Sound of Iron
The roar of the engine outside was unmistakable. It was the savage, unbridled growl of a 1969 Dodge Charger—the mechanical calling card of Tristan Montgomery, the second-born brother and the family’s undisputed phantom.
""He's here,"" Elena whispered, her teeth chattering from shock.
Julian caught the flicker of dread passing between the siblings. Sensing a shift in momentum, Julian backed toward the private elevator behind the grand bar. ""You brought a street racer to a siege, Montgomery? My perimeter defense has thirty men armed with tactical rifles. Your little family reunion ends at the estate gate.""
A sudden, deafening explosion ripped through the western wing of the mansion.
Plaster dust showered down upon the ballroom guests, coating designer tuxedos and diamond necklaces in white powder. Women shrieked; men dropped to their hands and knees. The ballroom lights flickered once, twice, and died completely, plunging the grand hall into total darkness—save for the piercing high-beams of the vehicles parked outside.
Through the smoked glass of the side terrace, a silhouette emerged. Tall, leaner than Cole, but moving with predatory grace, Tristan stepped through the shattered French glass. He held a customized Barrett REC7 assault rifle slung across his chest, but his hands were currently occupied lighting a silver Zippo lighter.
""Sorry I’m late,"" Tristan said, snapping the lighter shut. The flame illuminated his sharp cheekbones and cold gray eyes. ""Traffic was terrible. Had to run three roadblocks.""
Julian reached for the elevator call button. ""Security! Code Black! Kill them all!""
Tristan didn't even aim the rifle. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a heavy handheld transceiver, and pressed the talk button. ""Leo. Take the grid down.""
Two miles away, the entire private power grid of the Vance ridge collapsed. The electronic locks on the elevator doors slammed shut with an ominous click. Julian pounded his fist against the reinforced steel, trapped.
Cole wrapped his leather coat around Elena's shivering frame, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. ""Tristan, cover the rear. We’re moving.""
""Wait,"" Elena gasped, clutching Cole’s arm, her knuckles white. ""Cole, the crop... the silver handle on Julian's crop. It’s not leather. It’s a disguised drive.""
Julian’s face went chalk white. He spun around, trying to shove the riding crop into his inner breast pocket.
Tristan closed the distance in two strides. He grabbed Julian by the throat, slamming him against the mahogany bar with enough force to shatter the liquor display behind them. Tristan pried the riding crop from Julian's hand, examined the silver filigree at the base, and twisted it. The bottom popped off, revealing a gold-plated military-grade cryptographic drive.
""Well, well,"" Tristan murmured, tapping the metal casing against Julian’s cheek. ""The Vance family really thought they could steal Montgomery blood.""
""You don't know what you're dealing with,"" Julian choked out, blood trickling from his split lip. ""That’s not just financial records. It’s the location of the girl.""
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Cole stopped in his tracks, turning slowly. ""What girl?""
Julian laughed, a wheezing, desperate sound. ""Ask your father. If he’s still alive to answer.""
