Chapter 15
1039 Words
The mansion fell into an uneasy silence as the midnight hour passed. In her room, Anola frantically rifled through her hidden journal, her aristocratic composure shattered. Someone had touched her most guarded possession.
Pages were slightly misaligned, the leather binding creased differently. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she flipped through the incriminating entries about Marius's murder.
"Who could have..." she whispered, the realization slowly dawning. Only one person had been alone in this room recently. "Reed."
Across the estate, Sarah slipped through the corridors, following Atlas's precise instructions to exit undetected. The USB drive felt impossibly heavy in her pocket, its contents potentially world-ending for the Finnegans. As she reached the garden path, a hand clamped over her mouth from behind.
"Don't scream," Brock hissed, spinning her around. Tyson appeared beside him, his massive frame blocking any escape route. "What are you doing here at this hour, sweetheart?"
Sarah's eyes widened with recognition. "You're the ones who hurt my grandfather!"
Brock exchanged glances with Tyson. "The old man's granddaughter? Well, isn't this interesting." His grip tightened on her arm. "What connection do you have to Reed?"
"I don't know anyone named Reed," Sarah lied, struggling against his hold.
"Bullshit," Tyson spat. "We saw you with him on the security feed." He grabbed her purse, dumping its contents onto the ground.
The USB drive clattered onto the stone path, glinting in the moonlight.
"What's this?" Brock snatched it up, examining it with narrowed eyes. "Looks important."
Sarah lunged for it. "Give that back! It's personal!"
"Personal, huh?" Brock pocketed the drive, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Then you won't mind if we take a little peek."
"This could be valuable," Tyson muttered. "Leverage to get our jobs back."
"Or better… sell to the highest bidder." Brock's grip on Sarah's arm tightened painfully. "Who else knows you're here? Reed sent you, didn't he?"
Sarah's mind raced, desperation mounting. "Please, you don't understand what you're dealing with-"
"Oh, I think we do." Brock's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "You're going to tell us exactly what Reed is planning, or things are going to get very uncomfortable for you."
Meanwhile, Atlas moved silently through the mansion's east wing, unaware of Sarah's predicament. His enhanced senses detected Anola's movement before he heard her approaching footsteps. He slipped into an alcove as she stormed past, her face twisted with rage.
She was heading toward Hannah's suite.
Atlas followed at a careful distance, keeping to the shadows. When Anola reached Hannah's door, she didn't bother knocking, barging in with the authority of someone who considered the entire mansion her domain.
"We have a problem," he heard Anola hiss as the door swung shut behind her.
Positioning himself beside a vent in the adjacent room, Atlas could hear their conversation clearly.
"What are you talking about?" Hannah's voice was thick with interrupted sleep.
"Reed," Anola spat the name like poison. "He's not who he claims to be. He was in my private study. He saw things... sensitive things."
"Mother, it's the middle of the night-"
"Don't 'mother' me!" Anola's voice cracked with panic. "You brought him into this house with your insatiable needs. If he exposes us-"
"Exposes what, exactly?" Hannah's tone sharpened with suspicion.
A heavy silence fell between them.
"You know what," Anola finally whispered. "Marius."
"What about Marius?" Hannah's voice trembled. "Aaron said it was natural causes."
Atlas's jaw tightened as he listened. She hadn't known. Hannah hadn't been part of the murder conspiracy.
"Don't be naive," Anola snapped. "Aaron did what was necessary for this family. For all of us."
Hannah's gasp was audible even through the wall. "You... you killed him? Your own husband?"
"Keep your voice down!" Anola hissed. "We need to deal with Reed before he becomes a problem. Aaron can't know about this conversation."
"Why not?" Hannah's voice had risen despite Anola's warning.
"Because Aaron doesn't know that I know," Anola admitted. "He thinks he protected me from the ugliness of it. It was his initiation, his proof he could lead the family business."
Atlas smiled coldly in the darkness. Perfect. The cracks were forming exactly as he'd planned.
Back in the garden, Sarah had managed to stomp on Brock's foot, momentarily breaking his grip. She sprinted toward the mansion, her only thought reaching Atlas.
"Get her!" Brock shouted. Tyson lunged, tackling Sarah to the ground. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, and before she could scream, a hand clamped over her mouth.
"Take her to the gatehouse," Brock ordered, panting. "No one will hear her there."
Sarah fought viciously, but against two trained security men, she stood no chance. They dragged her across the grounds to the small building that controlled access to the estate.
Inside the gatehouse, they bound her to a chair with zip ties.
"Now," Brock said, pulling up a chair opposite her. "Let's try this again. What's on this drive, and what is Reed planning?"
"He'll kill you both," Sarah whispered, fear and defiance warring in her eyes.
Tyson laughed. "That pretty boy? I doubt it."
"You have no idea what he is," Sarah replied, a strange calm settling over her despite her situation. "He's not human."
Brock and Tyson exchanged amused glances.
"Let's find out what's so important." Brock pulled out a laptop, inserting the USB drive.
As the files loaded, their smiles faded, replaced by expressions of mounting horror.
"Holy s**t," Tyson breathed, staring at the screen. "Is that... Anola Finnegan's journal?"
"They murdered Marius Finnegan," Brock whispered, scrolling through the documents. "The old man was poisoned by his own wife and son."
Sarah watched their faces transform as understanding dawned. "Now you see why they'll kill you too. You know too much."
The guards looked at each other, a new kind of fear evident in their eyes.
"We need to take this to the police," Tyson said.
Brock shook his head slowly. "No. This is worth millions to the right buyer."
"Or," came a voice from the doorway, "it could cost you your lives."
All three heads snapped toward the sound. Aaron Finnegan stood in the entrance, a pistol aimed steadily at Brock's head.
"I believe you have something that belongs to my family."
- Writer
