Chapter 5 - The Crimson Ledger
Before Ava could process the crushing weight of her brother's words, a sharp, metallic screech echoed from the alleyway directly beneath the loft's window.
Ethan stiffened instantly, dropping into a low crouch as he grabbed his pistol from the table.
“Get away from the window!” Ethan hissed, gesturing frantically for Ava to drop to the floor behind a heavy oak bookshelf.
Through the grime-covered glass, the harsh, glaring beams of two heavy-duty vehicle headlights swept across the brick wall opposite the building.
The sound of car doors slamming shut simultaneously rang out from the street below, followed by the heavy, synchronized thud of combat boots hitting the pavement.
Ava's blood ran ice cold as she recognized the distinctive tactical formation outside.
“It's Marcus,” Ava whispered, horror gripping her throat. “My father's security detail. They tracked my car's GPS the moment I left the estate.”
Ethan didn't panic; instead, his face hardened into a mask of cold, calculated survival instinct, as if he had anticipated this exact moment for years.
“They didn't just track your car, Ava—they planted a secondary tracker in your coat the moment you walked into the foyer tonight,” Ethan said swiftly, pulling a heavy tactical duffel bag out from under a cot in the corner of the room. “Your father never trusted you to make a clean choice. He sent you here as bait, or as insurance.”
Ava stared at her brother in absolute horror, realizing the chilling depth of her father's manipulation.
“I didn't know... I swear I didn't know,” she stammered, tears spilling over her cheeks as heavy thuds echoed against the heavy wooden door of the hallway outside.
“Open up! City utilities check! Step away from the door!” a gruff, muffled voice called out from the corridor, followed immediately by the unmistakable sound of a hydraulic breaching tool being unclipped from a tactical vest.
Ethan grabbed a heavy steel crowbar and jammed it securely beneath the doorknob, reinforcing the rotting wooden frame just as a violent crash shook the entire apartment.
“They're going to breach in thirty seconds,” Ethan said, grabbing a secure, fireproof metal lockbox from the bottom of the closet and shoving it directly into Ava's hands. “Take this. Run through the emergency fire escape in the back hallway before they blow the hinges.”
“I'm not leaving you here to die!” Ava shouted over the sound of a heavy boot smashing violently against the outer door.
“If you stay, we both die, and our father wins completely!” Ethan shouted back, shoving her toward the back utility door leading into the dark, rain-soaked stairwell. “Inside that lockbox is every single bank transfer, offshore account number, and sworn affidavit proving Richard Morgan murdered our mother and framed her death! Take it to federal prosecutor Sarah Jenkins downtown before sunrise!”
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A deafening blast echoed through the room as Marcus's men blew the door off its hinges, sending splinters of wood flying across the loft like shrapnel.
“Go, Ava! Run!” Ethan roared, raising his pistol toward the shattered doorway as tactical flashlights cut through the billowing smoke.
