Chapter 26 - The Shattered Alliance
The gunshot inside the enclosed glasshouse was explosive.
Clara fired twice into Vance’s chest before he could raise the barrel of his submachine gun.
Vance staggered backward, crashing through a tiered display of porcelain planters, his weapon discharging into the glass ceiling.
Spiderwebs of white fractures erupted across the massive overhead panels as thousands of shards rained down.
"Get down!" Evelyn shouted, tackling Arthur behind an Italian marble fountain.
Glass plummeted like daggers, slicing through the broad leaves of the palm trees and shattering on the stone.
Through the falling debris, Arthur saw Clara grab Eleanor by the throat, dragging her toward the rear exit.
"Clara, stop!" Arthur roared, breaking free of Evelyn’s grip and sprinting through the falling shards.
Vance was on the ground, gasping for air, clutching his blood-soaked chest.
As Arthur passed him, Vance’s hand shot out, catching the hem of Arthur’s coat with surprising strength.
"The... the vault key," Vance choked out, dark blood bubbling on his lips.
"Save your breath," Arthur said, trying to wrench free.
"She’s... she’s not taking the money offshore," Vance coughed, his eyes rolling back. "She’s burning it."
Arthur froze, looking down at the dying detective. "What?"
"The encryption... it’s an erasure protocol," Vance wheezed. "She wants... total annihilation. She’s destroying every account... every record..."
Vance’s grip went limp, his hand slipping from Arthur’s coat onto the glass-strewn floor.
He was gone.
"Arthur, they're heading for the cliffs!" Evelyn yelled, sprinting past him with her weapon drawn.
Arthur tore himself away from the body and ran through the shattered glasshouse doors into the mountain gale.
The rain was turning into freezing sleet, coating the granite paths in slick, treacherous ice.
A hundred yards ahead, at the edge of the sheer rock face overlooking the roaring river gorge, two figures struggled.
Clara had forced Eleanor against the rusted iron railing that hung over a two-hundred-foot drop.
Lightning ripped across the black sky, turning the world into harsh, monochrome flashes.
"You stole my mother's life," Clara’s scream was torn away by the wind. "Now you give it back!"
"I gave you life, you ungrateful wretch!" Eleanor screamed back, clawing at Clara’s eyes.
Arthur reached the edge of the terrace, skidding on the wet stone, his hands outstretched.
"Clara! Let her go!"
Clara stopped, turning her head slowly toward him in the freezing rain.
Her white veil, soaked through and torn, hung around her shoulders like a shroud.
Beneath the wet fabric, her eyes were wide, wild, and brimming with terrifying serenity.
"If she dies, the Hawthorne name dies with her, Arthur," Clara said, her voice steady in the hurricane wind.
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"I don't care about the name!" Arthur yelled, taking a slow step forward. "I care about the truth!"
"This is the truth," Clara said softly, pulling the trigger.
