Part 8
The ground was slick with mud,
making every step a treacherous gamble,
as we sprinted down the sloping hill toward the river.
Behind us,
the mansion stood like a burning beacon,
its lights flashing,
and the sounds of shouting voices drifting through the trees.
I kept a firm grip on Lily’s hand,
pulling her along whenever she stumbled,
guiding her through the dense undergrowth.
The forest grew thicker here,
the branches clawing at our clothes,
as if trying to hold us back for Victor's men.
The radio on my belt continued to blare,
the security team coordinating their search,
spreading out across the grounds in a sweeping pattern.
"They're heading toward the tree line,"
a voice reported,
"Track the footprints in the mud,
they can't have gone far."
They were professional,
moving quickly to cut off our escape,
but they didn't know the terrain as well as I did.
I had spent hours analyzing the topography of Haven Crest,
knowing every ridge,
every stream,
and every hidden path.
We reached the edge of the river,
where the water rushed dark and swollen,
swollen by the heavy summer rain.
The old wooden boathouse loomed in the darkness,
its timber weathered,
and its dock creaking against the current.
I led Lily inside,
the air smelling of gasoline,
oil,
and stagnant water.
A sleek,
black motorboat sat in the slip,
secured by thick nylon ropes,
its keys dangling from the ignition panel.
Victor’s vanity was our salvation,
he always kept his toys ready for a quick departure.
"Get in,"
I ordered,
helping Lily over the gunwale,
and into the passenger seat.
I moved to the stern,
using my pocket knife to slice through the heavy ropes,
freeing the vessel from the dock.
Suddenly,
the bright beam of a flashlight illuminated the interior of the boathouse,
blinding me for a second.
"Step away from the boat!"
a voice barked from the doorway,
the silhouette of a man standing against the storm.
It was Julian Vance,
a silver pistol raised in his trembling hand,
his face twisted with rage and desperation.
"You think you can just take her?"
Julian shouted,
his voice cracking over the sound of the rushing water.
"That money belongs to me,
Victor promised it,
and I’m not letting some old ghost ruin my life."
He was unstable,
pushed to the brink by his debts,
making him more dangerous than a professional killer.
I stood perfectly still,
keeping my hands visible,
shifting my body slightly to shield Lily from his line of fire.
"The money is gone,
Julian,"
I said,
my voice calm,
deliberate,
carrying the weight of absolute authority.
"The moment I entered this house,
my software uploaded every financial record of Avalon Holdings to a secure server.
The federal authorities already have it,
and by morning,
your assets will be frozen."
Julian’s face went pale,
the gun shaking even more,
as the reality of his ruin began to sink in.
"You're lying!"
he screamed,
tightening his grip on the trigger.
"Try me,"
I replied,
taking a slow,
deliberate step toward him,
May you like
"But remember,
an investigator never bluffs."
