Chapter 3 - Ghosts of Blackwood Manor
Twenty minutes later, the black caravan broke through the iron gates of the Montgomery compound, hidden deep within the coastal redwood forests of northern California. The estate, known as Blackwood Manor, was a fortress of stone and slate built in the 1920s, reinforced with modern ballistic glass and biometric security perimeter arrays.
Cole carried Elena up the front stairs. The heavy oak doors swung open before they even reached the landing.
Waiting in the foyer was Leo Montgomery, the youngest of the brothers at twenty-six. Leo was the family’s mind—an MIT dropout who controlled the family’s logistical empire and counter-intelligence networks. He wore a rumpled gray sweater, wire-rimmed glasses, and carried a medical trauma kit.
""Get her to the library couch,"" Leo commanded, his hands already steadying Elena's neck. ""Tristan, secure the southern gate. Our drones picked up four unmarked vans trailing you five miles out.""
""They won't get past the ridge,"" Tristan replied coldly, setting his rifle on the antique hall table. ""I laid spike strips along the hairpin turns. Let’s see what's on this drive.""
He tossed the silver riding crop handle onto the glass coffee table next to Leo’s terminal.
Elena winced as Leo gently applied antiseptic to the deep cut across her brow. ""He kept asking about the inheritance, Leo. He thought Dad left everything to me in a hidden trust.""
""Dad didn't leave money, El,"" Leo said softly, wrapping a sterile bandage around her cut. ""He left debt, enemies, and a war.""
Cole paced in front of the stone fireplace, his boots clicking rhythmically against the slate floor. ""Where is the Old Man?""
Leo glanced up, his expression guarded behind his lenses. ""He slipped into a coma three hours ago at Saint Jude’s Private Wing. The doctors say his heart is failing. He won't survive the night.""
A heavy silence settled over the room. For five years, the Montgomery family had been fractured. Cole had vanished into black-ops contracting; Tristan had carved his own territory in the underground racing and smuggling circuits; Leo had locked himself away with algorithms and balance sheets; and Elena had tried to assimilate into polite society, naive enough to believe a Vance could love her.
""He held on long enough to see this,"" Leo said, plugging the cryptographic drive into his encrypted terminal. Lines of green code cascaded down the multiple monitors. ""Julian wasn't acting alone. The Vance family is just a proxy.""
""A proxy for who?"" Cole asked, leaning over the desk.
Leo's fingers flew across the mechanical keyboard. A decryption algorithm bypassed three layers of firewalls. Suddenly, a high-resolution scanned document appeared on the primary screen.
It was an adoption record, dated twenty-four years ago, bearing the official seal of the state orphanage in Chicago. Attached to it was a photograph of a four-year-old girl with dark auburn hair and piercing hazel eyes—the exact shade of the Montgomery lineage.
Beneath the photograph was a single handwritten note signed in their father's jagged handwriting:
Find Evelyn before Julian’s father puts her in the ground.
""We have a sister,"" Elena whispered, her eyes wide with shock. ""A younger sister.""
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Before anyone could answer, the mansion’s emergency red lights flared to life. An automated alarm klaxon wailed through the corridors.
""Perimeter breached,"" Leo said, his voice dropping an octave. ""The eastern wall. They didn't come by road. They came by helicopter.""
