Chapter 76 - The Siege of Elysium
Julian’s arrival turned the room into a living nightmare.
His eyes were sunken, bloodshot, and wild with madness. The sharp suits and manicured hands of the corporate predator were gone; in their place stood a wounded, cornered beast who had lost everything and had nothing left to lose.
"Julian," I whispered, stepping back toward the shatterproof glass, keeping my body curled protectively around Noah.
"You look stunning, darling," he sneered, his ruined lips pulling back over yellowed teeth. "A little pale, maybe. Being on the run doesn't suit you as well as private jets and penthouses, does it?"
"Drop the weapon, Vance," Eleanor’s voice commanded from behind an overturned marble table. She had her rifle leveled directly at Julian’s chest.
Julian didn't even flinch. He laughed—a wet, rattling sound. "Eleanor! The grand puppet master herself! You thought you could throw me to the feds, didn't you? You thought I was just some disposable boy you could use to crack the cipher and toss in a cell!"
"You were always mediocre, Julian," Eleanor said with icy disdain. "A greedy child who failed every test I gave you."
"Well, this mediocre child brought three platoons of foreign mercenaries to your little mountain playground," Julian snarled. Behind him, the sounds of intense firefights echoed through the lower floors—screams, grenade detonations, and the shattering of reinforced steel. "The Blackwood board gave me full authorization. I bring Noah’s genetic sequence back, and they give me forty percent of the syndicate."
"You poisoned our son, Julian," I said, my voice steady, cutting through the chaos. "Thirty-one hours after I gave birth, you left him to die in that hospital while you celebrated with your buyers."
Julian’s gaze flicked to me, a flash of pure hatred in his eyes. "He wasn't a son, Clara! He was a contract! A hundred-million-dollar buyout! And you ruined it! You froze my accounts! You sent the feds to my yacht! You turned me into this!" He pointed the barrel of his shotgun at his disfigured face.
"You did that to yourself," I replied coldly.
"Enough talk," Eleanor snapped, and pulled the trigger.
The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space. The bullet caught Julian in the right shoulder, spinning him around with a spray of dark blood. But Julian had anticipated the move; as he fell, he tossed a fragmentation grenade straight across the floor toward Eleanor’s barricade.
"Grenade!" Eleanor screamed, diving toward the adjoining executive suite.
The explosion blew the marble table into a thousand jagged projectiles, ripping through the drywall and shattering the light fixtures. The concussive blast threw me backward onto the carpet, ringing bells through my skull, but my arms never unclasped from around Noah.
Smoke filled the room, thick, black, and suffocating.
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Through the haze, I saw Julian crawling across the debris, clutching his shotgun with his left arm, his eyes locked onto Noah.
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