Chapter 9
1464 Words
Liam POV
The coordinates do not lead to a sci-fi base. They lead to a decommissioned lighthouse on a private island off the coast of Maine. It is a place of salt, rotting wood, and cold stone. It is a place for a quiet murder, not a global takeover.
I push the boat toward the rocky shore. The waves hit the hull with a heavy thud. The engine hums. My heart is a faster rhythm.
Eleanor has my mother. My mother is a woman who loves gardens and old books. She does not belong in this damp, gray hell.
"Felix," I say into my phone. "Stay on the line. If I do not check in every ten minutes, send the police to Arthur Vane’s private dock. Tell them everything."
"Liam, be careful," Felix says. "Eleanor is desperate. Desperate people do not care about the rules."
I look at Isabella. She wears a heavy wool coat. She looks at the lighthouse. Her face is a mask of stone. She is not afraid of the dark. She is afraid of the woman waiting in it.
"We go in through the cellar," Isabella says. "My father used this place for offshore storage. The locks are manual."
We jump into the freezing water. We scramble over the rocks. We reach the base of the lighthouse. The air smells of dead seaweed.
Isabella POV
I know this place. My father brought me here once when I was ten. He told me it was where we kept the "family secrets." I thought he meant old photos. I was wrong.
I find the iron handle in the tall grass. I pull. The hinges groan.
We descend into the dark. Liam holds a simple flashlight. The beam cuts through the dust. We pass crates of old records. We pass dusty furniture.
We reach the stairs. I hear a voice.
"I always liked the sound of the ocean, Catherine. It drowns out the screaming."
My mother. Eleanor.
We reach the top of the stairs. The room is circular. It is filled with the orange light of a kerosene heater.
My mother stands by the window. She holds a small, snub-nosed revolver. She looks elegant even in a drafty lighthouse.
Catherine Sterling sits in a wooden chair. She is tied with simple rope. She looks tired. She looks small.
"Liam," Catherine whispers. Her voice is a thread of silk. "Go away."
"I am not leaving you, Mom," Liam says.
He steps into the light. He does not have a gun. He has his hands. He has his pride.
"The stone is in my pocket, Eleanor," Liam says. "Let her go. You want the Vane fortune. I want my mother. It is a simple trade."
Eleanor smiles. It is a thin, dry smile.
"The Vane fortune is gone, Liam. Your 'intern' saw to that. The markets are closing in on Arthur. The banks are seizing the accounts. I do not want the stone for the money."
She looks at me.
"I want the stone because it is the only thing Arthur loves more than himself. I want to see him watch it burn."
Liam POV
I see the flaw in Eleanor. She is not a businesswoman anymore. She is a woman scorned. She is a woman who wants to destroy the man who replaced her.
I look at Isabella. She is moving slowly. She is circling the room. She stays in the shadows.
"Arthur is on his way," I say to Eleanor. "I called him. I told him you were here. I told him you had the sapphire."
Eleanor’s hand shakes. The gun wavers. "You did what?"
"He will be here in twenty minutes," I lie. "He is coming with his security team. If you kill us, you stay here. You get caught. Is that what you want? To spend the rest of your life in a gray cell?"
"He wouldn't come," Eleanor whispers. "He hates me."
"He loves the sapphire," I say. I pull the blue stone from my pocket. It glints in the orange light. "And he knows you have it."
Eleanor steps toward me. She wants the stone. Her greed is a physical weight in the room.
"Give it to me," she commands.
I look at Isabella. She is behind Eleanor now. She holds a heavy iron fire poker. Her face is pale. Her eyes are wide. She has never hit anyone in her life. She is a calculator, not a killer.
"Liam, don't," Isabella whispers.
Eleanor spins around. She sees Isabella.
"You," Eleanor spits. "The disappointment. The girl who thinks a man will save her."
She raises the gun at Isabella.
I lunge.
Isabella POV
The world moves in slow motion.
Liam throws himself at Eleanor. The gun fires. The sound is deafening in the small room.
I hear a cry of pain.
Liam and Eleanor crash to the floor. The kerosene heater tips over. The orange flames lick at the dry floorboards.
"Liam!" I scream.
I run to them. Liam is pinned under my mother. He is gasping. Blood is soaking into his dark sweater. He was hit in the shoulder.
My mother is reaching for the gun. It is inches from her fingers.
I grab the fire poker. I swing. I do not think about math. I do not think about logic.
The iron hits her wrist. She screams. The gun slides toward the stairs.
I pull Liam away from her. He is heavy. He is warm.
"The ropes," Liam gasps. "Get my mother."
I run to Catherine. I use a small pocketknife to saw through the ropes. My hands are shaking. The room is filling with smoke. The old wood of the lighthouse is dry. It burns fast.
"Isabella, look out!" Catherine screams.
I turn. My mother is standing by the window. She is not looking at us. She is looking at the sapphire.
It fell out of Liam’s pocket. It sits near the growing fire.
The heat is making the air shimmer.
My mother reaches for the stone. Her sleeve catches fire. She does not seem to notice.
"My legacy," she whispers.
She grabs the stone. She looks at me one last time.
"You were always too soft, Isabella. Just like your father."
She doesn't run for the stairs. She doesn't run for the door.
She jumps.
Liam POV
I hear the splash. I hear the wind.
I struggle to my feet. My shoulder is a white-hot scream of pain.
"Isabella! We have to go!"
The floor is a sea of fire. Catherine is leaning on Isabella. They are moving toward the stairs.
We scramble down the stone steps. The smoke is thick. It tastes like ash and history.
We reach the cellar. We burst out into the night air.
I collapse onto the rocks. The lighthouse is a torch in the dark.
"Mom," I gasp.
Catherine kneels next to me. She is crying. She pulls my head into her lap. "I'm here, Liam. I'm here."
I look for Isabella.
She is standing at the edge of the cliff. She is looking down at the dark, churning water.
The sapphire is gone. Her mother is gone. The Vane name is burning behind her.
She looks at me. She looks like a ghost again.
"It's over," she says.
But then, the sound of a helicopter cuts through the wind.
It is not the police. It is a black chopper with the Vane logo on the side.
Arthur.
The helicopter hovers over the island. A spotlight hits us.
A voice comes over a loudspeaker.
"Isabella. Liam Sterling. I hope you saved the stone. Because if you didn't, I have no reason to keep the Sterling lawyers from filing those kidnapping charges."
I look at Isabella. She looks at the fire.
She reaches into the pocket of her coat.
She pulls out the sapphire.
She didn't let her mother take it. She switched it again.
She looks at the helicopter. She looks at the gun Julian dropped in the cellar, which she had tucked into her waistband.
"Liam," she says. Her voice is cold. "The war isn't over. My father is here. And he thinks he still has a daughter."
She points the gun at the spotlight.
- Writer
