Chapter 13 - Betrayal in the Snow
The words hit Diana harder than any kinetic blow. Her mind raced back through the last forty-eight hours: the sudden appearance of Marcus Cole, the convenient extraction boat, her father’s insistence on bringing Lily directly to the isolated chalet in Zurich. Arthur hadn't saved them from the gala; he had gathered them into a single, manageable package.
Diana looked down at Elena Vance, whose breath was becoming shallow from internal bleeding. “Where is Alexander now?”
“He’s at the chalet,” Elena whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as unconsciousness took her. “Signing the transfer papers... with your father.”
Diana didn't waste another second. She holstered her weapon, took the encrypted drive, and sprinted down the long subterranean corridor toward the river exit. Every muscle in her body burned with exhaustion, but the thought of Lily in the hands of those two calculating monsters drove her forward with manic energy.
She surfaced into the freezing Swiss night, the snow falling thicker now, covering her tracks in white obscurity. She commandeered an all-terrain vehicle parked near the maintenance docks, tearing through the winding mountain roads that led back up into the alpine ridge.
The headlights cut through the blizzard, illuminating towering pines heavy with ice. Her radio was silent. Her father’s private frequency returned only static. They were jamming communications, isolating the estate from the outside world.
Ten minutes later, the iron gates of the chalet came into view. They stood wide open, the security guardhouse deserted, snow already piling on the hood of an abandoned patrol truck. Diana killed the headlights, rolling the vehicle to a silent halt beneath the canopy of trees fifty yards from the main entrance.
She drew her weapon, checking the chamber. The snow crunched softly beneath her boots as she advanced toward the wide panoramic windows of the living room.
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Inside, the warm glow of a roaring fireplace illuminated the opulent room. Sitting on opposite sides of a heavy oak table were Arthur Sterling and Alexander Vance. Between them lay a thick stack of legal documents and a fountain pen.
And standing in the corner of the room, still wrapped in her pink blanket, was Lily, clutching her hands to her chest, surrounded by three armed mercenaries wearing the Vance family crest.
