Chapter 6 - Mirror Image
The penthouse became a labyrinth of terror. Eleanor threw herself at Arthur to buy the boys time, screaming at them to get to the private elevator. Arthur shoved her aside, sending her crashing into a bookshelf, and took off after the twins.
“Get to the lobby!” Eleanor yelled, dialing 911 on her smartwatch.
Julian and Leo sprinted down the hallway. “The elevator needs a keycard, I don’t have mine!” Julian panicked.
“The stairs! Where are the stairs?” Leo demanded, his street instincts taking over.
“Through the kitchen!”
They burst into the kitchen just as Arthur rounded the corner, taking aim. They dove behind the marble island as a bullet shattered a vase above their heads.
“We can’t outrun a bullet down sixty flights of stairs,” Leo whispered fiercely, his chest heaving. He looked at Julian. He looked down at their clothes. Julian was wearing his expensive pajamas. Leo was wearing Julian’s oversized sweats.
“Take off your shirt,” Leo demanded.
“What? Are you crazy? We’re about to die!”
“Just do it!” Leo snapped. In seconds, they swapped tops. Leo ruffled Julian’s perfectly styled hair to make it messy, then flattened his own.
“Listen to me,” Leo whispered, grabbing Julian by the shoulders. “He only wants to kill me. He wants to keep you for the inheritance. When he comes around the corner, I’m going to run for the service elevator. He’ll follow me thinking I’m you, or you’re me. You take the stairs. Run until your lungs bleed. Don't look back.”
“No! I won't leave you!” Julian cried.
“For once in your life, rich boy, let someone else take the hit,” Leo smiled, a sad, brave smile. “I’m used to it.”
Before Julian could argue, Leo leapt up from behind the counter. “Over here, you psycho!” Leo yelled, mimicking Julian’s softer, refined accent perfectly.
Arthur rushed in. “Julian! Get down!” Arthur shouted, confused by the clothes.
Leo bolted toward the service hallway. Arthur, hesitating for just a second trying to figure out which twin was which, chased after the boy running away.
Julian scrambled out from behind the counter, tears streaming down his face, and threw open the heavy fire door to the stairwell. He began to run down the concrete steps, skipping two at a time, his bare feet slapping against the cold stone. Sixty floors. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight.
Back on the top floor, Leo was cornered. The service elevator was locked. He turned around to face Arthur, who was walking toward him with the gun raised.
“Game over, street rat,” Arthur panted, pointing the gun right at Leo’s chest. “You’re wearing his shirt, but you don't have his posture. You’re trash. You always were.”
Leo didn’t flinch. He stood tall, looking his tormentor dead in the eye. “You didn't break me. You just made me harder to kill.”
Arthur’s finger tightened on the trigger.
Suddenly, the heavy steel door to the service hallway burst open. Eleanor stood there, blood dripping from a cut on her forehead, holding Arthur’s heavy golf club. With a primal, earth-shattering scream, she swung it with everything she had.
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The heavy metal club connected directly with the back of Arthur’s knees. There was a sickening crunch. Arthur howled in agony, the gun flying from his hand as he collapsed to the floor.
Eleanor didn’t stop. She stood over him, raising the club again, breathing heavily. “Don't you ever. Touch. My. Son.”
