Chapter 7 - The Enemy Inside
Ethan froze.
The gun in his hand wavered by a fraction of an inch, but it was enough.
"What did you say?" Ethan’s voice was a low, terrifying rumble that carried through the glass.
Vance laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You spent four years tearing Knoxville apart looking for the leak, Ethan. Looking for the rat who gave me the route your wife was taking that night. You never thought to look at your own blood."
My heart pounded against my ribs. Ethan’s sister? The one who had flown in for Christmas?
"You're lying," Ethan said, but the devastating doubt was plain on his face.
"Am I?" Vance sneered. "She hated your wife, Ethan. She thought Lily made you soft. She wanted the company to stay ruthless. She gave me the route. And last month, when she went broke, she sold me the security codes to the safehouse. She even gave me the rabbit as proof she had access to your private desk."
Vance took a step forward, smelling blood. "She planted that rabbit at the thrift store near David's widow, knowing she’d buy it. Knowing it would draw you out. She set this whole thing up."
Ethan looked completely broken. The betrayal of his own sister, the architect of his family's destruction, was too much.
In that split second of Ethan's hesitation, Vance moved.
He didn't go for his dropped gun. He pulled a hidden blade from his coat and lunged.
I screamed, pounding on the glass.
Vance drove the knife into Ethan’s side.
Ethan grunted in pain, dropping to one knee. His gun clattered to the ice.
Vance stood over him, raising the bloody knife for a lethal strike to Ethan’s neck.
I didn't think. I didn't calculate. I just reacted.
I threw the car into drive and slammed my foot on the gas.
The heavy sedan surged forward, tires spinning on the ice before catching traction.
I hit Marcus Vance at twenty miles an hour.
The impact threw him over the hood and into the brick wall of the alley with a sickening crunch. He collapsed into the snow, motionless.
I slammed on the brakes and threw the door open, rushing to Ethan.
He was clutching his side, breathing shallowly. Blood was seeping through his fingers, staining the pristine snow.
"Ethan," I sobbed, dropping to my knees. "Hold on. I have to call an ambulance."
He grabbed my wrist with surprising strength. His pale eyes were wide, desperate.
"No hospitals," he gasped. "The police... they work for her now. My sister."
"What do we do?" I cried, tears freezing on my cheeks.
Ethan reached into his pocket with his bloody hand. He pulled out his phone and handed it to me.
"Call Marlene," he whispered, his voice fading.
May you like
"Marlene?" I stared at him. "My cleaning supervisor?"
Ethan offered a weak, bloody smile. "She’s not just a supervisor, Hannah. She’s my mother."
