Chapter 6 - The Long Night
My heart hammered against my ribs, but my mind remained incredibly clear. The years of building an empire from nothing had taught me how to survive in high-stress situations.
"Where is he now, Marcus?" I asked, throwing off my duvet and stepping into my slippers.
"He’s in the elevator shaft. He somehow bypass-keyed the service elevator using an old security card he must have stolen before the lockout. We’ve cut the power to the lift, but he’s climbing the maintenance ladder. He’s heading for the penthouse. I have three teams moving up to intercept him, but you need to get to the safe room immediately."
"I'm going now," I said.
My penthouse had been designed with top-tier security. Behind a bookshelf in my master bedroom was a heavy steel door leading to a reinforced panic room, equipped with its own ventilation system, food, water, and an independent communications array.
I hurried toward the bookshelf, but just as I reached for the hidden latch, a loud crash echoed from the hallway outside my bedroom.
The sound of shattering glass.
Brendan had bypass-broken the emergency balcony door. He hadn't climbed the elevator; he had climbed the fire escape in the pouring rain, using the storm as cover.
I spun around, my back hitting the bookshelf.
The bedroom door burst open.
There stood Brendan. He was soaked to the skin, his hair plastered to his forehead, his clothes covered in dirt and grease. His eyes were bloodshot, wild, and unfocused. In his right hand, he held a heavy, black handgun.
"Cassidy," he panted, his voice trembling as he pointed the gun at me. "You... you thought you could just lock me out. You thought you could take everything and leave me with nothing."
"Brendan, put the gun down," I said, keeping my voice steady, though my heart was racing. I slowly slid my hand toward my pocket, where my phone was.
"Don't touch it!" he screamed, raising the weapon. "Put your hands where I can see them!"
I slowly raised my hands. "Brendan, look at you. You’re shivering. You’re in trouble. If you pull that trigger, there is no plea deal. There is no coming back from this. They will hunt you down."
"They're already hunting me!" he cried, tears mixing with the rain on his face. "My mother is living in a slum! I'm going to prison! My life is over anyway! If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me. You ruined us!"
"You ruined yourselves," I said, taking a slow step to the side, trying to position myself closer to the panic room door. "I offered you a good life. I loved you, Brendan. But you loved your pride more. You loved your mother's approval more. You loved Jessica's praise more."
"Shut up! Shut up!" he yelled, his hand shaking so violently the gun wobbled. "Don't talk about them! You think you're so smart, sitting up here with your billions. Let's see how smart you are when—"
Suddenly, the balcony doors behind him shattered completely.
Two stun grenades detonated with blinding flashes and deafening cracks. Brendan screamed, covering his eyes as the concussive force knocked him to his knees.
Before he could recover, Marcus and three tactical officers swarmed the room. Marcus tackled Brendan to the ground, pinning him instantly and twisting the gun out of his hand.
Brendan let out a pathetic, high-pitched wail as the handcuffs clicked shut around his wrists.
"Target secured!" Marcus shouted, holding Brendan down. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with concern. "Ma'am, are you alright?"
May you like
I leaned against the wall, my legs shaking. But I didn't fall. I looked down at Brendan, who was sobbing into the carpet, completely defeated.
"I'm fine, Marcus," I said, my voice strong. "Get him out of my sight. And call the police. Tell them the former heir to the Morrison fortune just added attempted murder to his list of charges."
