Chapter 32 - The Master Suite Trap
Through the slit of the pantry hatch, I watched the man who had abandoned me to die in a category-five hurricane.
Julian Vance looked nothing like the polished, arrogant titan who had boarded the last helicopter with Sloane on Vance Cay. His designer shirt was half-unbuttoned, stained with sweat and bourbon. His hair was disheveled, and his hand shook so violently that the ice in his tumbler rattled against the crystal like nervous teeth.
"Where is she?" Julian muttered to himself, turning toward the French doors overlooking the ocean. "She should have reached the cellar by now. Goddammit, why hasn't Marco radioed?"
He didn't know Marco was already dead, throat slit by an unknown blade.
I slipped out of the dumbwaiter silently, lowering the braided paracord back down the shaft for Kaelen. Within thirty seconds, Kaelen rose from the shadows like a wraith, completely noiseless, his suppressed sidearm drawn.
I signaled for him to hold. This moment belonged to me.
I stepped out from behind the mahogany pantry doors. The floorboards didn't make a sound beneath my soft-soled boots.
"Looking for me, Julian?"
Julian froze. The tumbler slipped from his fingers, shattering violently across the imported Italian marble, amber liquid splashing over his bare feet. He spun around, his face draining of all color until he looked like a walking corpse.
"Elena...?" he breathed, stumbling backward against the kitchen island. "How... how the hell did you get out of the storm? The island was leveled! The coast guard found no survivors!"
"You always underestimated my will to survive," I said, stepping forward, the muzzle of my Glock leveled directly between his terrified blue eyes. "And you vastly overestimated your own importance."
"Wait! Put the gun down!" Julian pleaded, raising his hands, his chest heaving with shallow, panicked breaths. "Elena, you don't understand what happened! Sloane... she forced my hand! She threatened to leak the board minutes, she said the baby was sick—I panicked! It was survival instinct, Elena! I never wanted to leave you!"
"Save the performance for the federal grand jury," I replied coldly. "Where is Sloane? And where is your mother's personal cipher?"
A grotesque, desperate smirk suddenly broke across Julian's trembling lips.
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"You think I'm the one who locked you in the cellar?" he whispered, a strange, hysterical madness creeping into his eyes. "You think I'm the one running this house tonight? Oh, Elena... you really don't see it, do you?"
Before I could pull the trigger, the double doors of the master suite swung open, and slow, mocking applause echoed through the grand corridor.
