Chapter 14 - The Devil's Bargain—The Enemy of My Enemy
Julian’s face was pale, his expensive suit ruined and smelling of sewage. He looked like a drowned rat, but the malice in his eyes was completely intact.
“Go ahead,” I whispered, staring down the barrel of his gun. “Pull the trigger, Julian. Mom already took the kids. You lost.”
Julian’s hand trembled slightly. “Mother? Mother is alive?”
“She faked the coma. She played you, Julian. She used you to create the heirs, and now she’s taking them to the Blackwood Estate to claim the intelligence network. You’re nothing but a loose end to her.”
Julian’s arrogant facade finally shattered. The realization that he had been outsmarted by the very woman he thought he was protecting hit him like a physical blow.
He slowly lowered the gun.
“The Blackwood Estate has a private airstrip,” Julian muttered, staring into the rain. “She’ll load them onto a jet to Geneva. Once they’re in the air, we’ll never see them again.”
“Then help me get them back,” I said, forcing myself to sit up against the guardrail, ignoring the searing pain in my ribs.
Julian looked at me, scoffing. “Help you? You just tried to drown me!”
“And you tried to steal my children and lock me in an asylum!” I yelled. “I don't care about you! I don't care about the empire! I just want my kids! You want the intelligence network? Fine! Help me break into the estate, you take the servers, and I take Ellie and Leo. We walk away.”
Julian stared at me, weighing his options. He knew he didn't have the manpower to breach Blackwood alone.
“Get up,” Julian said, extending a hand to pull me to my feet. “We have a jet to catch.”
We dragged Aris’s unconscious body into a stolen car Julian hotwired nearby. I bandaged Aris’s head while Julian drove us north toward the Hudson Valley like a madman.
An hour later, we reached the perimeter of the Blackwood Estate.
It was a fortress hidden deep in the forest, surrounded by electrified fences and patrolled by armed guards with attack dogs. Beyond the massive stone mansion, a private Gulfstream jet sat idling on an illuminated runway.
“We can’t just walk through the front gates,” Julian whispered, pulling a scoped rifle from the trunk of the car.
“We don't need to,” I said, checking the magazine of my stolen pistol. “There’s an old underground wine cellar that connects to the servant’s quarters. Dad showed it to me when I was six.”
We moved silently through the dark woods, avoiding the sweeping spotlights. We found the rusted iron grate hidden beneath overgrown ivy.
Julian used a bolt cutter to snap the lock.
We slipped into the damp, dark cellar, moving through rows of vintage wine until we reached a heavy wooden door leading into the main house.
I pressed my ear against the wood. I heard footsteps, then a voice.
It was Eleanor.
“Load the servers onto the jet,” my mother ordered. “And sedate the children. I don't want them crying during the flight.”
I kicked the door open.
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