Chapter 6 - The Betrayal
I slammed on the brakes. The car skidded on the ice, stopping mere feet from the driver.
My mind raced. Ethan's own man was working for Marcus Vance.
"Step out of the car, Mrs. Mercer," the driver called out, his gun unwavering. "Leave the child inside."
Panic clawed at my throat. I looked at the gear shift. I could run him over. But if I missed, he would fire into the car. At Ellie.
I couldn't risk it.
I slowly opened the door and stepped out into the freezing snow, leaving the engine running.
"Who are you?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Just a guy trying to retire," the driver sneered. "Vance pays better than Whitmore. Plus, Vance is actually going to be alive tomorrow."
"Ethan trusted you," I spat.
"Ethan trusts no one," a new voice echoed down the alley.
I turned.
A tall, gaunt man in a heavy wool coat walked out of the shadows. His face was scarred, his eyes dead and empty.
Marcus Vance.
He looked at me, then peered through the windshield at Ellie.
"David's kid," Vance mused, stepping closer to me. "Looks just like him. It’s a shame, really. I liked David. He just wouldn't give up his big brother's secrets."
Fury replaced my fear. This was the monster who took my husband. The monster who broke my family.
"You're a coward," I hissed.
Vance chuckled. "I'm a survivor. Ethan took ten years of my life. I'm taking everything that bears his bloodline. Starting with the little one."
He gestured to the driver. "Get the baby."
The driver moved toward the car.
"No!" I screamed, lunging at him.
The driver backhanded me across the face. I hit the icy pavement hard, tasting copper.
He reached for the door handle to get Ellie.
Suddenly, a deafening crack echoed through the alley.
The driver froze. A dark red stain bloomed across the chest of his expensive suit. He collapsed into the snow without a sound.
Vance spun around, raising his weapon.
Standing at the end of the alley, bleeding heavily from his left shoulder, was Ethan Whitmore.
He looked like the grim reaper himself.
"You always were sloppy, Marcus," Ethan rasped, his gun aimed squarely at Vance's head.
"Ethan!" Vance laughed nervously, backing away from my car. "You look terrible."
"Drop the gun, Marcus," Ethan ordered.
Vance looked at me on the ground, then at Ethan, calculating his odds.
He slowly lowered his weapon.
"You win this round, Whitmore," Vance sneered, kicking his gun away.
Ethan kept his weapon raised, his eyes cold. He walked forward, his boots crunching in the snow.
He stopped beside me, never taking his eyes off Vance. "Get in the car, Hannah. Lock the doors."
I scrambled up and threw myself into the driver's seat, locking everything.
Through the glass, I watched Ethan stand over the man who had murdered his family. The man who had murdered my husband.
Ethan’s finger tightened on the trigger.
May you like
Then, Vance smiled. A cruel, ugly smile.
"Go ahead, Ethan," Vance yelled, his voice muffled through the glass. "Kill me. But before you do, you might want to ask your sister in Boston where she got the money to save her failing company last month. And who she gave your daughter's stuffed rabbit to in exchange for my freedom."
