Chapter 8 - The Cornered Wolf
The icy river water lapped at my waist, threatening to pull my numb legs out from under me.
Julian stood on the riverbank, looking down at us like a landlord inspecting an eviction. Beside him, the broker raised his weapon, the barrel steady despite the downpour.
"You don't understand, Julian," I shouted, my voice cutting through the roar of the river. I held the matte-black USB drive high above my head, directly over the churning, roaring rapids. "You shoot, and this drops into the current. You will never see these encryption keys again. You will never unlock the Swiss accounts. Your masters will know you failed!"
Julian’s eyes narrowed. For the first time, a flicker of genuine apprehension crossed his face. The arrogance melted away, replaced by the cornered terror of a man whose very survival depended on a piece of plastic.
"Don't be foolish, Natalie," Julian said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, soothing purr. "You drop that drive, and you destroy your only bargaining chip. What do you think happens to you then?"
"You're going to kill me anyway," I replied, stepping an inch deeper into the current, letting the water swirl around my chest. "You killed Clara. You killed Victoria. You are an empty, soulless shell of a man."
"Shoot her arm," Julian ordered the broker without turning his head. "Non-lethal. Just drop her into the shallows."
The broker’s finger tightened on the trigger.
*Crack!*
A shot echoed across the river valley, but it didn't come from the broker's weapon.
The broker's head jerked violently. A crimson bloom exploded from his shoulder, spinning him halfway around. His weapon discharged wildly into the riverbank, kicking up geysers of mud before he collapsed into the rushing water with a heavy splash.
Julian whirled around in absolute shock.
Emerging from the darkness of the bridge above was a figure stumbling through the rain, leaning heavily against the concrete guardrail.
It was Victoria.
Her champagne gown was soaked in blood—not just her own, but the blood of the security guard she had apparently ambushed in the main house. Her face was pale as chalk, a deep gunshot wound visible on her side, but her right hand held the chrome snub-nosed revolver with iron precision.
"You should have checked my pulse, Julian," Victoria gasped, her voice ragged and bloody. "You always were sloppy with the details."
"Victoria, you psychotic bitch—" Julian reached for his coat.
*Crack!*
Victoria fired again. The bullet tore through Julian’s knee.
He screamed—a high, pathetic, guttural shriek—collapsing into the mud, his hands clutching his shattered joint. The pistol flew from his grasp, tumbling into the dark waters of the Blackwood River and vanishing instantly.
"Run, Natalie!" Victoria screamed, collapsing against the guardrail, her strength finally spent. "Get them to the highway! Go!"
Julian clawed at the mud, his face contorted in agony, his aristocratic composure entirely obliterated. "You'll never make it! My men are everywhere! You're dead, Natalie! All of you are dead!"
I didn't look back.
May you like
Grabbing Maya with one arm and clutching Leo with the other, I lunged through the final stretch of the riverbank, clawing our way up the steep asphalt embankment toward the neon lights of the highway.
***
