Chapter 7 - THE ENEMY WITHIN
"Sniper!" Ronan yelled, instantly tackling Ivy to the marble floor of the balcony and shielding her body with his own as another round cracked through the exterior glass wall.
The bullet had come from the high-rise construction crane across the avenue. Ronan dragged Ivy into the reinforced interior corridor just as his security detail rushed the balcony with ballistic shields.
"Julian Hail was arrested, but his shadow syndicate—the Vanguard Fund—is still operating," Ronan said through gritted teeth, checking Ivy for injuries. "They know that if Ivy testifies before the Grand Jury on Monday, their entire offshore network collapses."
"We have to get Miss Lancaster to the safehouse in the Adirondacks," Malcolm stated, arriving with an armored tactical team. "The city transit hubs are compromised."
Two hours later, an unmarked convoy sped north along the winding, tree-lined mountain highway through dense fog. The Adirondack lodge was an isolated, fortified estate built by Ronan’s grandfather, accessible only by a single private bridge.
Inside the SUV, Ivy looked at the encrypted ledger they had salvaged. "The Vanguard Fund isn't just Julian Hail. There’s another name on the executive board. A silent partner who owns thirty percent of the offshore shares."
She zoomed in on the scanned signature from thirty years ago. Her eyes widened in shock.
"Ronan... look at this signature."
Ronan leaned over. His expression hardened into pure ice.
The name signed beside Julian Hail was Arthur Sterling—the vice-chairman of Blackwood Global and Ronan’s late father’s oldest friend.
"Arthur Sterling was at the charity gala tonight," Ivy whispered, realizing the depth of the betrayal. "He smiled at you while sending the hit squad."
Before Ronan could contact his headquarters, the lead security SUV in their convoy exploded into a ball of orange fire as an anti-vehicle mine detonated on the bridge ahead.
The armored SUV screeched to a violent halt. Headlights from three black tactical trucks flared up in the fog behind them, boxing them onto the bridge over a roaring mountain gorge.
May you like
"Ambush!" the driver yelled as bullets began hailing down upon the armored glass like a hailstorm.
---
