Chapter 22: Sins of the Mother
Chapter 22: Sins of the Mother
The night air of upstate New York was crisp, cutting through the adrenaline still coursing through Eleanor’s veins. The armored SUV tore down Route 9, the headlights slicing through the dense pine forests. Julian was at the wheel, his face illuminated by the harsh glow of the dashboard GPS.
"The Obsidian Trust," Julian muttered, swerving to avoid a deer. "Rumor says they started as a private intelligence firm during the Cold War. Now they buy and sell sovereign debt. And apparently, they buy politicians."
"And they know about Leo," Eleanor said, her voice tight.
Her son. Leo was fifteen, brilliant, and safely tucked away at the St. Jude Academy, a fortress masquerading as a boarding school. But if The Obsidian Trust was involved, no fortress was safe.
Eleanor’s burner phone vibrated. She answered it on speaker.
"Mom?" The voice was a whisper, trembling with barely suppressed panic. "Mom, there are men here. They aren't security. They wear black suits, and they just took Mr. Harrison into the hall."
Eleanor’s blood turned to ice, but her tone remained steady, radiating absolute authority. "Leo, listen to me. Remember the game we play? The Ghost Protocol?"
"Y-yes. Air vents. Boiler room. Don't look back."
"Execute it now. Do not trust the police. Do not trust the teachers. Julian and I are exactly twelve minutes away. Get to the old bell tower and bar the trapdoor."
"Okay," Leo whispered. The line went dead.
Eleanor racked the slide of her SIG Sauer. Julian floored the accelerator, the V8 engine roaring like a caged beast. "We’re going to be going in hot," he warned.
"I don't care if we burn the school to the ground," Eleanor replied, her eyes reflecting the headlights in the rearview mirror. "Nobody touches my son."
They breached the academy gates at eighty miles an hour, smashing through the wrought iron. The campus was eerily quiet, the dormitories dark. But parked in the courtyard were three unmarked black vans.
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Eleanor stepped out of the SUV before it had completely stopped. Two men in tactical gear emerged from the shadows of the library. They didn't even have time to raise their rifles. Eleanor moved with lethal grace, firing three shots in rapid succession. Both men dropped.
She wasn't just a strategist anymore. She was a mother, and the world was about to find out what that meant.
