THE SILENT CUT: RECKONING OF THE SCARRED WIFE

Clara didn't wait for him to look back. Her left hand darted upward, slapping the barrel of the revolver away from her chest as Julian instinctively jerked the trigger.

BANG!

The gunshot deafened the room. The lead bullet tore into the ornate crown molding above the doorframe, sending plaster dust raining down like ash.

Before Julian could cycle the hammer for a second shot, Clara slammed the heel of her palm into his nose. Cartilage crunched beneath her strike. Julian roared in agony, stumbling backward, his grip slipping from the gun. The heavy revolver clattered onto the hardwood floor and spun under the bed.

Julian threw a wild, desperate punch with his right fist. The blow grazed Clara’s cheekbone, splitting the delicate skin over her scar and reopening the edge of the wound. Blood welled immediately, warm and thick against her brow.

The pain was an electric jolt, but Clara felt no fear—only cold, pristine vengeance.

She ducked beneath his wild left hook, drove her knee hard into Julian’s groin, and followed through with an elbow across his jaw. Julian crashed into the French doors. The glass exploded outward under his weight, showering the stone terrace with shards.

Julian collapsed onto his hands and knees among the broken glass, gasping for air, clutching his bleeding nose. Heavy boot steps thundered up the staircase as Marcus Cole and two uniformed tactical officers burst into the bedroom, carbines raised.

""Hold your fire!"" Marcus commanded, rushing into the room.

Clara stood on the threshold of the shattered terrace doors, wiping the trickle of blood from her eyebrow with the back of her hand. Her three-piece suit was covered in plaster dust, but her posture remained sovereign.

Julian looked up from the glass-covered stone, spitting blood. ""Shoot her! She attacked me! She tried to kill me!""

Marcus ignored him, stepping out onto the terrace and planting his heavy boot directly between Julian’s shoulder blades, pinning him flat against the stone. An officer clamped heavy steel cuffs around Julian’s wrists with two sharp clicks.

""Julian Sterling,"" Marcus read coldly, pressing down on the cuffs. ""You are under arrest for attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon, and corporate racketeering.""

Julian let out a muffled scream of rage as his face was pressed into the jagged glass.

Clara looked down at him for three seconds. She didn't say a word. There was nothing left to say to an insect that had lived on her family's blood for half a decade.

She turned back into the bedroom, where Vance was standing with a white linen handkerchief.

""Clara,"" Vance breathed, handing her the cloth. ""Are you alright?""

Clara pressed the cloth against her forehead, soaking up the red drop. ""I’m fine, Vance. But we aren't done. Julian’s offshore servers in Zurich... where is the access key?""