Chapter 25 - The Discarded Pawn
The emergency alarm shifted from a low wail to a deafening, pulse-pounding siren. Red strobe lights bathed the underground vault in bloody hues. Through the viewport, Victoria saw the first squad of Sterling’s elite operatives descend through the lift shaft—clad in matte-black exoskeleton armor, their helmets equipped with infrared optics that glinted like predatory insects.
"Wait! Please! I am Victoria Vance!" she screamed, rushing toward the lead operative, waving her shattered diamond ring in the air. "I negotiated with Julian! I’m his partner! Tell him I have the offshore account authorizations!"
The point operative didn't even slow his stride. With a single, dismissive backhand, his carbon-fiber gauntlet slammed across Victoria’s cheek, sending her crashing into the concrete floor. She rolled across the debris, coughing blood, her designer wig torn away to reveal matted, graying hair.
"Non-combatant asset terminated from contract," the operative reported flatly into his tactical throat mic. "Planting shaped breaching charges on Vault Door Seven."
Inside the safe room, Marcus stood beside the overrides, weapon raised. "She’s finished, Emily. They have no use for her. In thirty seconds, those thermite charges will melt through this hinge."
I felt no pity watching Victoria curl into a pathetic ball on the frigid floor. For six years, she had made my existence an waking nightmare. She had stripped my name from my father's house, forced me to wear ground-crew coveralls, made me load luggage into the belly of jets while her smug daughter drank champagne on the upper deck, and mocked me when I was forced to fly twelve-hour red-eyes in the last row of Economy next to the lavatories. She had laughed while calling me a worthless orphan.
Now, stripped of her stolen wealth and cosmetic armor, she was just an old, terrified woman discarded by the very devils she had invited into our home.
"Marcus," I said, fingers flying across the glowing keyboard, activating Northstar's forgotten deep-rail protocol. "Open the blast hatch to the alpine tunnel. Leave the outer partition locked."
"Emily, if we leave her there, the blast will kill her."
"I am not a murderer, Marcus," I replied cold-bloodedly, typing the final override sequence. "But I won't die to save a viper. Unlock the outer holding cell and drag her into the decontamination lock. She will face a real court of law, not a mercenary's bullet. She will spend every remaining day of her life wearing prison orange, remembering the baggage handler she tried to crush."
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Marcus hit the switch. The inner decompression door hissed open. He lunged out, grabbed Victoria by the collar of her ruined coat, and threw her kicking and sobbing into the secondary airlock just as the first thermite spark flared against the outer steel.
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