Chapter 9: The Ledger
It took ten agonizing minutes of crawling through mud and freezing rain to reach the concealed cellar doors on the side of the house. Adrian ushered Rachel and Emma down the concrete steps into the basement.
He keyed a code into the heavy titanium door of the panic room. It hissed open, revealing a small, brightly lit bunker stocked with water, communications equipment, and survival gear.
"Lock it from the inside," Adrian ordered as Rachel and Emma stepped in. "Do not open it for anyone."
"What are you going to do?" Rachel asked, holding the door open just a crack.
"Claire left a physical ledger hidden in the wall panel of her closet," Adrian said, his eyes darkening. "It has the routing numbers, the shell companies, and the proof of who Caleb and Madison were working with. The audio file isn't enough to bury them permanently. I need that book."
"Adrian, don't go back up there," Rachel pleaded. "Let the police handle it."
"The police are paid off. Marcus wouldn't have jammed the signals if he didn't have local law enforcement in his pocket," Adrian replied coldly. "I'm ending this tonight."
He pushed the heavy door shut, waiting for the electronic clack of the deadbolts engaging.
Once they were secure, Adrian turned back to the dark basement. He racked the shotgun. He had five shells of buckshot and a home-field advantage. It was time to hunt.
He bypassed the grand staircase, taking the hidden servant's passage that Margaret and Natalie had used earlier. He moved silently, his bare feet making no sound on the wooden stairs.
When he pushed the concealed bookshelf open on the second floor, the hallway was pitch black. The only light came from the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the tall windows.
Adrian moved down the corridor like a ghost. He reached the double doors of the master suite. They were ajar.
Someone was inside.
He pressed his back against the wall, listening. Through the rhythmic drumming of rain on the roof, he heard the sound of tearing wood and heavy breathing. Someone was in Claire's closet, tearing it apart.
Adrian leveled the shotgun and stepped into the doorway.
The master bedroom was dark, but a faint, green luminescence emanated from the walk-in closet. Night vision goggles.
Marcus was inside, using a crowbar to pry the cedar paneling completely off the wall, desperately searching for the ledger Madison had warned him about.
"Looking for something, Marcus?" Adrian’s voice sliced through the dark room like a razor blade.
Marcus spun around, dropping the crowbar and bringing his suppressed pistol up in one fluid, highly trained motion.
But Adrian was faster. He didn't aim for Marcus's chest; he knew the man was wearing armor. He aimed for the faint green glow of the night vision lenses.
BOOM!
The shotgun roared, lighting up the room with a brilliant orange muzzle flash.
The buckshot tore through the upper half of the closet. Marcus let out a guttural scream as the blast shattered his night vision goggles, throwing him backward into the racks of silk dresses.
Adrian pumped the shotgun and advanced, refusing to give the mercenary a chance to recover. "Drop the gun, Marcus! Drop it!"
Marcus, blinded and bleeding profusely from his forehead, blindly fired three shots toward the sound of Adrian’s voice. The bullets whipped past Adrian’s ear, embedding themselves in the heavy oak doorframe.
Adrian didn't flinch. He fired again.
BOOM!
The shot hit Marcus in the right shoulder, spinning him violently to the floor. The suppressed pistol clattered out of his hand, skidding across the carpet.
Adrian walked into the closet, the smell of gunpowder and cedar heavy in the air. He stood over the bleeding head of security, the barrel of the hot shotgun aimed directly at the man’s face.
"Who ordered the hit on my wife?" Adrian demanded, his voice a low, terrifying rumble.
Marcus coughed, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "You're... a dead man, Westwood. The Petrovs... they're already on their way."
"Who ordered it!" Adrian roared, pressing the hot steel barrel against Marcus's uninjured shoulder.
"Your brother!" Marcus cried out in agony. "It was Caleb! She was going to expose the embezzlement! Madison wanted her scared, but Caleb... Caleb paid us to cut the brakes! He panicked!"
Adrian felt the world drop out from underneath him. A cold, suffocating numbness washed over his entire body.
Caleb.
It wasn't just a warning gone wrong. It wasn't just Madison pulling the strings. His own flesh and blood, the brother he had loved and protected, had paid a cartel hitman to murder his wife.
Adrian stared down at Marcus. The rage that had been boiling inside him suddenly turned to absolute ice.
He didn't say another word. He brought the heavy wooden stock of the shotgun down hard against Marcus's temple, knocking the mercenary out cold.
Adrian stepped over the unconscious body and reached into the shattered wall cavity behind the cedar panel. His fingers brushed against a small, leather-bound book wrapped in plastic.
He pulled it out. The ledger.
May you like
He tucked the book into the back of his waistband.
The game was over. The truth was out. There was only one thing left to do.
