Chapter 5 - Blood on the Ledger
The air in the penthouse grew so dense it felt impossible to breathe. Arthur Vance didn't look surprised by Larkin’s sudden appearance; he merely crossed his arms, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his face.
"Well, look who decided to join the board meeting," Arthur drawled, his eyes darting between Larkin and me. "Took you long enough, cousin. Did you have to fight your way past your own cousin to get up here, or did you finally realize your little secretary was playing both of us?"
Larkin didn't look at Arthur. His dark, impenetrable eyes remained fixed entirely on me, standing ten feet away with my back near the floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking the dizzying drop of the Manhattan skyline.
"You didn't answer my question, Penelope," Larkin said, taking a slow, measured step forward. "The dead-man's switch. Where is the decryption key? Because if Arthur gets his hands on it before the federal upload completes, he doesn't just protect the syndicate—he wipes your mother's name off the official exoneration list forever."
I froze. The words hit me like a physical blow.
"What did you say?" I whispered, my voice cracking for the first time all night.
Arthur let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Oh, did our dear Mr. Steves omit a few details from the bedtime story? Tell her, Larkin. Tell her who actually signed the execution order for Evelyn Woods twenty years ago, and who spent the last three years paying for your Ivy League tuition out of guilt."
Larkin’s jaw tightened so hard I thought the bone would snap. He raised the Walther slightly, leveling it not at me, but at the glass partition directly behind Arthur Vance.
"Shut your mouth, Arthur," Larkin snarled.
"No, let him talk," I demanded, stepping forward, the steel tips of my stilettos clicking sharply against the Persian rug. The betrayal that had been simmering in my chest for five years suddenly flared into blinding, white-hot fury. "Tell me the truth, Larkin. Right now."
Before Larkin could speak, the red emergency warning lights on the penthouse surveillance wall suddenly flashed to life. Every single monitor flared red, displaying a single chilling message across the screens: HOSTILE BREACH - SUB-LEVEL SECURED.
Downstairs, the heavy sound of gunfire echoed faintly through the ventilation shafts.
Arthur’s smile vanished instantly. He reached inside his jacket, but before his fingers could close around his weapon, Larkin’s Walther barked twice in rapid succession. The glass partition behind Arthur shattered into a million glittering shards as a sniper bullet from the building across the street tore through the window, grazing Arthur’s shoulder and sending him crashing to the floor in a spray of blood.
Arthur screamed, clutching his bleeding arm, as the penthouse doors flew open and a heavily armed tactical team wearing unbadged black tactical gear poured into the room.
Larkin grabbed my wrist with a grip that was surprisingly desperate, pulling me hard against his chest as the tactical team surrounded them, their assault rifles raised.
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"We don't have time for the ledger, Penelope," Larkin panted into my ear, his heart hammering wildly against my ribs. "The federal task force just raided the lobby. And they aren't here to arrest us—they’re here to execute everyone who ever touched my books."
Before I could jerk my arm away, Larkin kicked out the remaining glass of the balcony window with his boot, dragging me out into the freezing night air as the glass rained down sixty stories into the abyss.
