Chapter 30 - THE EYE OF THE STORM
Margaret felt the air freeze in her throat. Her vision blurred, the room swaying around her as the name echoed off the stone walls like a death sentence.
"My... my father?" Margaret’s voice was barely a croak. "My father died of a heart attack when I was twelve years old! I stood at his grave! My mother wept over his casket!"
"An empty casket, Margaret," Father Thomas said, his hands trembling as he closed the hollow hymnal. "Just like Arthur’s boat. Just like Sarah’s medical records. The men of the Vance family never die when they say they do. They stage their deaths to escape federal indictments, leaving their wives and children behind as collateral damage while they rule their financial empire from the shadows."
He stepped toward the window, pulling the heavy curtain aside by a fraction of an inch to peer out into the blinding rain.
"Your father built the empire that Julian tried to steal," Father Thomas continued, his voice tight with terror. "Julian wasn't acting alone. Julian was trying to murder Lily because William Vance named her his sole beneficiary two months ago. Julian was trying to take the crown before the old man died."
Suddenly, the priest froze.
Outside, at the edge of the chapel’s gravel parking lot, two sets of high-intensity black-out headlights silently cut through the downpour.
Three armored black Suburbans rolled to a halt in front of Saint Jude’s, their engines purring with low, menacing power. The doors did not open immediately. Instead, four laser targeting beams—thin, crimson needles of light—swept across the stained-glass windows of the sanctuary, painting glowing red dots across the stone walls of the rectory.
"They didn't trace Arthur’s phone," Father Thomas whispered, his eyes wide with horror as he slowly backed away from the window.
"Then how did they find us?" Margaret gasped, springing from the chair and scooping the sleeping child into her arms.
Father Thomas turned to Margaret, a look of devastating betrayal and agony on his face.
"They didn't track Arthur, Margaret," the priest whispered, his hand reaching slowly into his cassock pocket. "They tracked me."
Before Margaret could scream, the heavy stained-glass window behind Father Thomas shattered in an explosion of colored glass and lead framing.
A high-velocity flashbang grenade bounced across the hardwood floor, landing right at Margaret’s feet, its fuse hissing with blinding white sparks in the dark.
May you like
From the shattered window, a voice amplified through a tactical megaphone boomed over the howling wind:
"Margaret Vance! Hand over the girl and step away from the priest! The Judge wants his granddaughter alive—and he wants you to watch what happens next!"
