Chapter 29 - The Dawn of Restitution
Julian didn't lower his gun. His eyes were locked on Christian’s face, his finger resting taut on the trigger. "You killed my father, Christian. You put digitalis in his glass while he was drafting the injunction."
Christian smiled—a cold, empty smirk that sent shivers through the smoke-filled air. "Your father was a sentimental fool. Just like Eleanor. They thought laws and covenants could stop the Dre name. But power doesn't belong to the bloodline, Julian. It belongs to the one willing to pull the trigger."
"Then you should have pulled it faster," I said.
Christian’s eyes flicked to me, a flicker of surprise passing over his face.
Behind him, on the vault monitor, a loud chime echoed through the vault:
*TRANSMISSION COMPLETE. ENCRYPTION KEYS DISPATCHED TO INTERPOL LYON & US ATTORNEY GENERAL.*
At the exact same instant, the sirens didn't come from the elevator shaft—they came from the street directly above us. The massive steel emergency grates of the bank slammed down with the force of an avalanche, cutting off Christian’s escape route behind him.
Heavy footsteps pounded down the marble stairs. "Swiss Federal Police! Drop your weapons! Drop them now!"
Christian’s face twisted in sudden, manic fury. He raised his pistol toward Maya’s pram. "If I don't leave with the fortune, none of you leave this vault alive—"
Julian didn't hesitate.
A single shot rang out from Julian’s Glock.
The bullet struck Christian’s shoulder, spinning him violently around as his gun clattered across the stone floor. Before he could recover, Julian was on him, driving his knee into Christian’s spine, pinning him to the concrete with the cold muzzle of his weapon pressed against the base of his skull.
"That," Julian whispered in Christian's ear, his voice deadly and quiet, "was for Jonathan Mercer."
A dozen Swiss tactical officers flooded into the vault, assault rifles raised, sweeping the room before disarming Christian’s surviving guards.
Behind them, breathing heavily in a rumpled suit, stepped Agent Boyd.
He took in the scene—the shattered hinges, the blood on the floor, the open ledgers on the table—and then looked at me, holding Maya securely against my chest while Eleanor stood tall beside us.
"You cut it a little close, Vance," Boyd said, exhaling a long plume of smoke-tinged breath.
"You were late, Boyd," I replied, a tired, triumphant smile breaking across my face through the dust and tears.
May you like
"Interpol picked up the digital feed three minutes ago," Boyd said, stepping forward and kicking Christian’s discarded weapon away. "Every offshore shell company, every hidden trust, every paid-off official in Washington and Zurich is currently being frozen. The Dre dynasty is over, Elena. Officially. Permanently."
***
