Chapter 7 - The Lion’s Den
The Sterling estate was a sprawling, opulent mansion sitting on the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. The front of the house was ablaze with lights, packed with luxury cars and the social elite.
We didn't go through the front.
Under the cover of darkness, Thomas, his tactical team, Clara, and I (with Liam secured to my chest) approached from the rocky beach below, scaling the cliffside path that Clara used to use to escape the house unnoticed years ago.
We bypassed the outer perimeter guards and slipped through a service entrance into the mansion's vast, industrial kitchen. The sound of classical music and polite laughter echoed from the grand ballroom upstairs.
"The medical ward is on the third floor," Clara whispered, leading us through the shadowed servants' corridors.
We moved silently, Thomas and his men neutralizing two armed guards with suppressed tasers along the way.
We reached the third floor. The hallway was pristine, white, and guarded by Dr. Aris himself.
"Federal agents! Drop your weapons!" Thomas shouted, raising his rifle.
Dr. Aris didn't flinch. He reached for his holstered weapon, but before he could draw, I charged forward, slamming my entire body weight into him. We crashed through the heavy double doors of the medical suite, shattering the glass.
I pinned him to the ground, driving my fist into his jaw until he went limp.
I looked up.
Sitting in a massive, high-tech hospital bed in the center of the room was a pale, frail nine-year-old girl. She looked terrified, clutching a stuffed bear. She had Clara's eyes.
"Maya," Clara choked out, pushing past the FBI agents and running to the bed.
The little girl stared at her, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Mommy?" she whispered, her voice weak.
Clara collapsed by the bed, wrapping her arms around the daughter she hadn't seen in nine years. I stood over them, my heart swelling with a fierce, protective pride.
"How touching," a slow, sarcastic voice echoed from the doorway.
We all turned. Standing there, flanked by six heavily armed mercenaries, was Elias Sterling. He was impeccably dressed in a tuxedo, holding a silver revolver.
"You always were a fighter, Clara," Elias sneered. "But this ends now. Kill the agents. Take the baby."
"It's over, Elias," Thomas said, keeping his rifle trained on the billionaire. "The hard drive is already in the hands of the Director. Warrants have been issued. Look out the window."
Elias glanced toward the massive bay windows. Down on the manicured lawns, dozens of red and blue police lights were flashing, swarming the property. Sirens wailed in the distance. Helicopters chopped through the night sky, their spotlights illuminating the estate.
Elias's arrogant smirk finally faltered.
"Drop the gun, Elias," I said, stepping in front of Clara, Maya, and Liam. "You've lost."
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For a long, tense moment, Elias stared at me. Then, he looked at his empire crumbling around him. Slowly, the silver revolver slipped from his fingers, clattering against the marble floor.
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