Chapter 7 - The Trap
"Pull the drive!" I screamed over the banging on the heavy reinforced doors.
Elias yanked the extraction drive from the terminal just as the progress bar hit one hundred percent and the screen flashed red with a system lockdown warning. He shoved the drive securely into his inside jacket pocket and grabbed my hand.
"Back exit, through the maintenance stairwell," he commanded.
We sprinted past the humming servers, diving into the narrow maintenance hallway just as the main doors burst open. I heard Victor barking orders, the heavy footsteps of his private security guards echoing against the metal flooring.
We hit the stairwell, taking the concrete steps two at a time. The air was thick and stale. We descended five flights in agonizing record time, our footsteps echoing loudly, betraying our position.
"They're heading down! Cut them off at the lobby!" Victor's voice echoed menacingly down the stairwell shaft.
Elias stopped abruptly on the thirty-fifth floor, pulling me through the fire door into a dark, empty maze of cubicles. "We can't outrun them to the ground floor," he whispered, his chest heaving. "They'll lock the building down. We have to change the game."
"How?" I gasped, clutching the stitch in my side.
Elias pulled out his phone. He didn't call the local police. He dialed a direct line he had pre-programmed. "Agent Miller," Elias spoke quickly into the receiver. "It's Grant. Code Red. We have the data, but we are trapped on the thirty-fifth floor of the main tower. Sloane is here with armed men. Move in."
He hung up and looked at me, a fierce, protective fire in his eyes. "I didn't just spend the day finding you a dress. I spent it negotiating an immunity and whistleblower deal with the FBI's financial crimes division. They've been circling Sloane for years but lacked the physical proof. Now, we have it."
Before I could respond, the elevator banks at the end of the floor dinged. The doors slid open, and a sweeping flashlight beam pierced the darkness of the office floor.
"Spread out. Find them," Victor ordered.
We crouched behind a heavy oak desk in a corner office, holding our breath. I could hear the slow, deliberate crunch of glass under Victor's shoes as he walked closer. He was enjoying the hunt. He thought he had won.
"You know, you could have just been a good girl," Victor called out into the darkness, his voice dripping with condescension. "You could have lived a life of luxury. All you had to do was smile, look pretty, and let the adults handle the business. But now? Now you're going to suffer a tragic accident in an empty office building. Such a shame."
He rounded the corner of the cubicle row, his flashlight beam landing directly on us. He smiled, raising a heavy, silenced pistol. Two guards stepped up behind him.
"End of the line," Victor sneered.
I stood up slowly, raising my chin. I wasn't the scared girl in the torn dress anymore. "You're right, Victor," I said, my voice eerily calm, echoing in the quiet office. "It is the end of the line. But not for us."
Down below, the sound of shattering glass and wailing sirens shattered the quiet night. The wail of federal sirens grew deafeningly loud, vibrating through the glass windows of the skyscraper. Red and blue lights began to flash wildly, painting the ceiling of the dark office in chaotic colors.
Victor's smug smile vanished. He rushed to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked down. The plaza below was swarming with dozens of armored FBI vehicles and heavily armed tactical teams breaching the lobby.
"What did you do?" Victor hissed, turning back to us, his face pale with sudden, absolute terror.
Elias stood up beside me, buttoning his suit jacket with an infuriatingly calm demeanor. "I believe they call it 'corporate restructuring,' Mr. Sloane. And your position has just been permanently terminated."
Footsteps thundered up the emergency stairwells. The stairwell doors burst open, and a dozen federal agents flooded the floor, weapons drawn, tactical flashlights blinding Victor and his men.
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"Drop the weapon! Hands in the air! Do it now!" the lead agent roared.
Victor dropped the gun, sinking to his knees as handcuffs were violently snapped onto his wrists. I watched him, feeling the heavy, suffocating weight of the past six years finally lift from my shoulders. The empire of lies was crumbling.
