Chapter 3 - The Trapped Predator
The trauma medic reached me in seconds, sliding a heated thermal blanket over my soaked body and hoisting me onto a collapsible stretcher with practiced efficiency.
"Core temperature is dangerously low. We need to stabilize her immediately," the medic shouted over the roaring turbine engines.
"Wait—take me with you! We need to get to a hospital!" Diego cried out, lunging toward the security operatives, his hands raised in desperate supplication. "It was an accident! She slipped near the pool, I tried to help her!"
One of the security guards stepped forward, planting a heavy combat boot on the patio stone and casually resting his hand on the sidearm holstered at his hip. He didn't draw the weapon; he didn't need to. The cold, unwavering stare he gave Diego was enough to freeze him in his tracks.
"Mr. Sterling’s orders are very specific, Mr. Morales," the guard said, his voice clipped and professional. "You remain on the property."
"My wife and my unborn children are in that chopper!" Diego yelled, his face flushing with fury and terror. "You can't imprison me on my own property!"
"It's not your property, Mr. Morales," a smooth, chillingly calm voice echoed from the helicopter's mounted intercom speaker.
Diego froze. He looked up at the speaker unit mounted beneath the eave of the roof.
The speaker crackled, and Alvin Sterling’s voice filled the freezing night air, amplified across the mountain plateau.
"Every square foot of timber, every pane of glass, and every foundation stone of that retreat belongs to the Sterling Family Trust," Alvin said, every word dripping with lethal ice. "And as of two minutes ago, your residency permit has been permanently revoked."
Diego stared up at the speaker, his mouth opening slightly as the horrifying realization set in. He hadn't just locked me outside to teach me a lesson. He had trapped himself inside a high-tech cage with a man who owned the keys, the walls, and the evidence.
"Dad—Alvin, listen to me," Diego stammered, stepping closer to the glass door where Brenna was pressing her face against the pane. "It was a misunderstanding! Tory misunderstood the documents!"
"Save your breath for the federal investigators, Diego," Alvin’s voice replied softly. "They're already thirty minutes out."
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The security guards hoisted my stretcher into the cabin of the helicopter. As the doors slammed shut, sealing out the freezing mountain wind, I caught one final glimpse of my husband through the reinforced glass: standing alone on the dark patio, staring up at the empty sky as his entire world collapsed around him.
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