Chapter 9 - The Reckoning
Julian stumbled backward, blinded by our high beams. He lost his grip on Ava’s hand.
The second the SUV stopped, I threw the door open. I didn't care about the jet exhaust, the spinning blades, or the smell of burning aviation fuel. I hit the tarmac running, barefoot, my gown torn, running toward my daughter.
"Ava!"
"Mommy!"
Ava broke away, running across the asphalt with her little arms outstretched. I dropped to my knees, sliding against the rough concrete, and caught her in my arms, wrapping my entire body around her like an impenetrable fortress.
"I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you," I sobbed into her curls, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her hair. "You're safe. Mommy’s here."
"Elena!"
Julian stepped forward, his eyes bloodshot, his tuxedo jacket torn, his face twisted into the grotesque mask of a madman who had lost everything. He reached into his coat pocket.
"You took everything from me!" he screamed over the turbine whine. "My name! My money! My legacy! If I’m going down, you’re coming with me!"
He pulled out a small, chrome snub-nosed revolver.
I pulled Ava behind my back instantly, shielding her with my own torso, my teeth bared, ready to take a bullet for my child.
*Crack.*
The sound echoed sharply across the tarmac, but it didn't come from Julian’s gun.
Marcus Kane had stepped around the SUV, his service weapon drawn with cold, practiced precision. The round struck Julian’s right shoulder, spinning him around. The chrome revolver flew from his numb fingers, clattering across the asphalt into the drainage grate.
Julian collapsed to his knees, clutching his shoulder, howling in agony as the red blood soaked through his bespoke white shirt.
Within seconds, the night sky was torn open by flashing red and blue lights. Four state trooper cruisers and two unmarked federal vehicles breached the security gate, surrounding the tarmac.
Armed officers spilled out, their rifles trained on the jet and Julian.
"Drop your weapons! Hands where we can see them!"
Special Agent Miller stepped out of the lead cruiser, holding up her badge. Behind her, two troopers moved in, forcing Julian face-down onto the grease-stained asphalt and wrenching his arms behind his back in cold steel handcuffs.
Julian screamed in pain as they pulled him up. "Do you know who I am?! I am Julian Vance! My grandfather built this town! Elena, tell them! Tell them to let me go!"
I stood up, holding Ava tightly against my hip. My daughter buried her face in my neck, safe, while I looked at the man I had once loved, now nothing more than a broken criminal bleeding on the concrete.
"I don't know who you are, Julian," I said, my voice steady, carrying over the idling engines. "And neither will history."
Agent Miller walked over, her eyes taking in the scene before looking at me with profound respect. "Mrs. Vance, are you and your daughter all right?"
"We are now," I said.
"Julian Vance is under arrest for federal wire fraud, interstate parental abduction, and grand larceny," Miller stated, turning to watch Julian being shoved into the back of a police cruiser. "Victoria Sterling just signed a full cooperation agreement. She surrendered the encrypted drives and admitted to the entire embezzlement scheme. Neither of them will see daylight for a very long time."
As the cruisers began to pull away, their sirens painting the midnight tarmac in flashing ribbons of light, Marcus walked over. He reholstered his weapon, looked down at Ava, and offered her a small, gentle smile.
"Hey there, little one," Marcus said softly, his voice warmer than I had ever heard it. He pulled Ava's stuffed bunny from the tarmac, carefully brushing the black grease off its pink felt ears, and handed it to her. "I think you dropped Mr. Buns."
Ava sniffled, reached out, and took the bunny. "Thank you, mister." She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. "Mommy, is Daddy still playing a game?"
I pressed my lips against her forehead, the smell of baby shampoo washing away every lingering trace of French jasmine and fear.
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"No, sweetheart," I said, looking out toward the horizon where the first faint glow of dawn was beginning to pierce the dark Atlantic sky. "The game is over."
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