Chapter 5: The Will Beneath the Fire
Chapter 5: The Will Beneath the Fire
Charles Whitmore’s face filled the ballroom screen.
He looked calm.
Too calm for a man being hunted through a locked estate.
Behind him was darkness.
No wall.
No window.
No visible clue to his location.
Only the pale shape of his face and the silver head of his cane.
“Excellent,” he said again.
“Now that all the pieces are in place, we can begin.”
My mother took one step backward.
That was the first time I had ever seen Evelyn Vale physically retreat from anyone.
“Turn it off,” she said.
No one moved.
She looked at Marcus.
“I said turn it off.”
Marcus did not even glance at her.
His attention stayed on the screen.
Charles smiled.
“You are still giving orders in a house that no longer belongs to you, Evelyn.”
My mother’s jaw tightened.
“This house belongs to my son.”
“For the moment.”
I stepped forward.
“Where is Clara?”
Charles tilted his head.
“You keep asking the wrong question.”
“It is the only question that matters.”
“No.”
“The question that matters is why Thomas Vale arranged tonight before he died.”
The room fell silent.
I stared at the screen.
“My father did not arrange this.”
Charles’s smile thinned.
“Your father arranged more than you know.”
“He created the trust.”
“He protected the original will.”
“He designed the hidden passages.”
“He installed the first surveillance network beneath this estate.”
“And he left instructions that could only be activated when all named parties were present.”
I looked around the ballroom.
My mother.
Sienna.
Nathan.
Uncle Richard.
Aunt Lorraine.
Dozens of relatives.
Employees.
Witnesses.
And a lawyer waiting outside the gate with a sealed document.
“What named parties?” I asked.
Charles tapped his cane once.
The screen divided.
On one side, his face remained visible.
On the other, a scanned page appeared.
At the top were the words:
CONDITIONAL TESTAMENTARY PROTOCOL.
Below them was my father’s signature.
The handwriting looked real.
That did not mean anything anymore.
Everything in that house could be forged.
“What is that?” I asked.
“A safeguard.”
“Against whom?”
Charles’s eyes shifted toward my mother.
“Against family.”
Evelyn laughed once.
It was a hard, brittle sound.
“Thomas trusted you less than he trusted any of us.”
“That was wise.”
“He regretted ever hiring you.”
“No.”
“He regretted realizing too late that I understood him.”
I stepped closer to the screen.
“What does the protocol say?”
Charles looked at me again.
“That the original will may only be opened in the presence of the primary heir, the protected beneficiary, the acting trustee, and the designated family witnesses.”
“Who is the primary heir?”
“You.”
“The protected beneficiary?”
“Clara.”
My hands tightened.
“She is not here.”
“Not visibly.”
The words sent a cold wave through me.
I looked toward Marcus.
He was already speaking into his radio.
“Thermal scan every lower room.”
“Search behind walls.”
“Check for signal repeaters.”
“Move.”
Teams responded from across the estate.
Charles watched me carefully.
“You will not find her that way.”
“Then tell me where she is.”
“When the will is opened.”
“No.”
“You are not negotiating from a position of strength.”
“Neither are you.”
I pointed toward the ballroom.
“Everyone you used is trapped in this room.”
“Not everyone.”
My mother’s eyes narrowed.
Charles continued.
“You still think the people seated in front of you are the conspiracy.”
“They are only the surface.”
The black sedan waited beyond the gate.
On the security feed, its headlights cut through the darkness.
The driver had not stepped out.
The gates remained sealed.
Marcus approached me.
“Daniel Mercer’s identity checks out.”
“You are certain?”
“Facial recognition matches archived legal records.”
“Any sign of coercion?”
“Unknown.”
“He has one passenger.”
“Who?”
“The image is obscured.”
“Can you contact him?”
“He is using the gate intercom.”
“Put him through.”
Marcus signaled the technician.
The main screen changed.
Charles’s image moved into the upper corner.
The gate camera appeared below him.
A man in his late sixties sat behind the wheel of the sedan.
His face was thinner than in the old photographs.
His hair had gone completely white.
But I recognized him.
Daniel Mercer had served as my father’s private estate attorney before Charles Whitmore took control of nearly every legal matter.
When my father died, Mercer vanished.
I had been told he retired abroad.
Then I had been told he was ill.
Eventually, my mother said he wanted no further contact with the family.
“Mr. Mercer,” I said.
He looked into the camera.
“Julian.”
His voice was tired.
But steady.
“Open the gate.”
“Not yet.”
“You called me here.”
“I did not.”
His expression changed.
“You sent the activation phrase.”
“What phrase?”
He looked toward the passenger seat.
Then back at the camera.
“Meridian remembers the fire.”
My mother sat down hard.
I looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
She said nothing.
Mercer leaned closer to the gate camera.
“It was the phrase Thomas instructed me to wait for.”
“Who sent it?”
“A secure legal channel.”
“When?”
“Forty-seven minutes ago.”
I looked at Marcus.
He checked the system.
“We sent nothing.”
Charles laughed softly from the corner of the screen.
Mercer noticed him.
His entire body stiffened.
“You.”
Charles inclined his head.
“Daniel.”
“You were supposed to stay dead.”
“You were supposed to stay hidden.”
Mercer’s hand moved toward something below the dashboard.
Marcus spoke quickly.
“Keep your hands visible.”
Mercer froze.
Charles smiled.
“Still frightened after all these years?”
Mercer looked at me.
“Julian, do not open this gate.”
My mother looked up sharply.
A moment earlier, she had demanded the same thing.
Now the warning came from the man carrying my father’s will.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I was followed.”
Marcus turned toward the perimeter feeds.
Several screens changed.
The road beyond the sedan appeared empty.
Trees moved in the wind.
No headlights.
No visible vehicle.
“How many?” Marcus asked.
“I do not know.”
“When did you notice them?”
“Twenty miles from here.”
“Vehicle description?”
“Dark SUV.”
“Possibly two.”
“Did they stay behind you?”
“No.”
“One passed me five miles ago.”
“Where is it now?”
“I lost it.”
Marcus gave orders through his radio.
“North and south perimeter teams, watch for dark SUVs.”
“No lights.”
“Possible armed approach.”
The ballroom guests began whispering again.
Nathan tried to move away from the nearest window.
A guard blocked him.
Charles remained calm.
“Open the gate, Julian.”
I looked at him.
“You told me to bring Mercer here.”
“I arranged the invitation.”
“Then why would someone follow him?”
“To ensure he arrived.”
Mercer shook his head.
“That is not why.”
Charles’s expression changed slightly.
Mercer continued.
“They want the document.”
“Who are they?”
“The people Thomas feared most.”
My mother whispered, “Stop.”
Mercer heard her through the intercom.
“Evelyn.”
She looked toward the screen.
“You should have burned it,” he said.
“I tried.”
The room went still.
I turned toward her.
“What did you try to burn?”
She looked at me.
“The original will.”
The admission did not shock me anymore.
Nothing about her seemed capable of shocking me now.
“Why?”
“Because it was dangerous.”
“To whom?”
“To everyone.”
Mercer laughed bitterly.
“No.”
“It was dangerous to you.”
My mother stood again.
“You disappeared when Thomas needed you.”
“I disappeared because Charles tried to kill me.”
Several people gasped.
Charles’s face remained unreadable.
Mercer continued.
“My car exploded outside Zurich.”
“I survived because Thomas had changed the route.”
Charles tapped his cane again.
“Careful, Daniel.”
Mercer’s hand tightened on the steering wheel.
“You are no longer in a position to threaten me.”
“Everyone is in a position to be threatened.”
I raised my voice.
“Enough.”
The room quieted.
I looked at Mercer.
“What is in the will?”
He hesitated.
“Something your father discovered shortly before his death.”
“What?”
“I do not know every detail.”
“You are the attorney.”
“I was instructed not to read the final sealed appendix.”
“Who read it?”
“Thomas.”
“Charles.”
“And one independent witness.”
“Who?”
Mercer looked toward the covered passenger seat.
Then he reached across and pulled back a dark blanket.
A woman sat beside him.
She was old.
Very old.
Her face was narrow.
Her silver hair was braided over one shoulder.
An oxygen tube rested beneath her nose.
For a second, I did not recognize her.
Then Aunt Lorraine screamed.
The sound tore through the ballroom.
My mother gripped the table.
“No.”
The elderly woman opened her eyes.
They were a deep, clear blue.
The same blue as Clara’s.
Mercer spoke quietly.
“Julian, this is Margaret Bennett.”
My chest tightened.
Clara had spoken of her grandmother many times.
Margaret Bennett had raised her after Rose died.
Clara believed Margaret had passed away six years earlier in a nursing facility.
We had attended a funeral.
There had been a body.
A closed coffin.
My mother began shaking her head.
“That is impossible.”
Margaret looked through the gate camera.
Her voice was weak.
But unmistakable.
“Hello, Evelyn.”
My mother’s face collapsed.
Not completely.
But enough.
“Margaret died.”
“No,” Mercer said.
“You arranged a death certificate.”
Charles laughed again.
“History does enjoy repeating itself.”
I stared at the screen.
“Clara thinks her grandmother is dead.”
Margaret’s expression filled with pain.
“She was meant to.”
“Why?”
“To keep her safe.”
“Safe from whom?”
Margaret looked at Charles.
Then at my mother.
“From both of them.”
Charles’s smile disappeared.
For the first time that night, he looked angry.
Margaret continued.
“Do not open the gate yet, Julian.”
“You need to verify the will before it enters the house.”
“How?”
Mercer lifted a metal case from the back seat.
It was attached to his wrist with a steel cuff.
“The document is inside a biometric container.”
“Whose biometrics?”
“Thomas’s original authorization.”
“He is dead.”
“The container does not require him.”
“It requires the heir.”
“Me.”
“And Clara.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then it cannot be opened.”
“Not unless she is physically present.”
Charles spoke from the corner of the screen.
“She is available.”
I turned toward him.
“Bring her to the gate.”
“No.”
“Then the will stays closed.”
“You are beginning to understand.”
I looked at Marcus.
“Can we extract Mercer and Margaret safely?”
“Possible.”
“Risks?”
“Unknown shooters.”
“Vehicle may be wired.”
“Gate may be compromised.”
“Tunnel routes could connect to the road.”
“Best option?”
“Armored team through the west service exit.”
“How long?”
“Seven minutes.”
“Do it.”
Charles tapped his cane sharply.
“If Mercer leaves the vehicle, Clara dies.”
Every sound in the ballroom stopped.
I stared at him.
“You do not control her life.”
“I control the room she is in.”
“Show me.”
The screen changed again.
Clara appeared.
This time, the image was clearer.
She sat in the same gray room.
Her hands were tied to the chair with cloth straps.
Her face was pale.
A bruise darkened one side of her forehead.
Behind her stood the masked man.
He held a syringe.
The needle pressed against the skin of her neck.
My vision narrowed.
“Take that away from her.”
Charles’s voice became colder.
“Call off the extraction team.”
I looked at Marcus.
He did not move.
“Julian,” Charles said.
“Call them off.”
I forced myself to breathe.
“Stand down,” I said.
Marcus spoke into the radio.
The team stopped.
Charles smiled faintly.
“Good.”
Clara lifted her head.
Her eyes found the camera.
“Julian.”
“I am here.”
“Do not give him anything.”
The masked man pressed the needle closer.
A bead of blood formed on her skin.
I stepped toward the screen.
“Stop.”
Clara did not look away.
“He wants the shares.”
“I know.”
“He wants the trust.”
“I know.”
“He said you would choose the company.”
“I will choose you.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Then he wins.”
“I do not care.”
“I do.”
The words struck me.
Even bound to a chair.
Drugged.
Bruised.
Terrified.
She was still trying to protect what we had built.
Charles watched us.
“Touching.”
“Release her,” I said.
“When the will is opened.”
“You said Clara must be present.”
“She is.”
“Where?”
“Within the estate.”
Mercer looked alarmed.
“If she is inside the estate, the biometric container may detect her.”
“How?”
“Proximity authentication.”
Marcus stepped closer to the screen.
“What range?”
“Approximately five hundred feet.”
The front gate was nearly a quarter mile from the ballroom.
Too far.
But the old service road curved along the north wall.
The hidden room beneath the east wing might be closer.
Charles had positioned Clara deliberately.
He needed the case brought inside.
“He wants Mercer through the gate,” Marcus said.
“Yes,” I replied.
“He needs the container near Clara.”
Charles’s eyes shifted.
That was confirmation enough.
I looked at Mercer.
“Do not move.”
He nodded.
Charles raised the device in his hand.
“You are testing my patience.”
“No.”
“I am testing your plan.”
I pointed toward the case.
“You cannot open it without Clara.”
“You cannot bring Clara out without exposing yourself.”
“So you need us to carry the will to you.”
Charles said nothing.
My mother looked between us.
Then she began to smile.
It was small.
But I saw it.
She had understood something.
“What?” I asked.
She looked at Charles’s image.
“You do not know where she is.”
Charles’s face hardened.
My mother’s smile widened.
“You arranged the room.”
“You arranged the transfer.”
“But the masked man moved her.”
I stared at her.
“What are you saying?”
She stepped toward the screen.
“You cannot see the room except through his camera.”
“You are using his feed.”
“You are not controlling him.”
Charles tapped his cane.
“Evelyn.”
She laughed.
“Who is he?”
“Stop talking.”
“You do not know.”
Charles’s calm finally cracked.
“Silence.”
My mother turned toward me.
“The man holding Clara is not working for Charles.”
A murmur spread through the room.
I looked back at Clara’s image.
The masked man had not moved.
The syringe remained at her neck.
“Then who is he working for?” I asked.
Evelyn’s smile disappeared.
“I do not know.”
Charles’s feed flickered.
For one second, his image distorted.
The masked man looked toward something offscreen.
Clara’s head turned slightly.
A second voice entered the feed.
Low.
Mechanical.
Altered.
“Charles.”
Charles went completely still.
The disguised voice continued.
“You have served your purpose.”
The syringe moved away from Clara’s neck.
The masked man stepped back.
Charles stared toward someone outside his own camera view.
“What have you done?”
The altered voice laughed softly.
“What Thomas should have done thirty years ago.”
The feed showing Charles shook.
He turned sharply.
A shadow crossed behind him.
Then the sound of a struggle filled the speakers.
The ballroom watched in stunned silence.
Charles’s camera fell sideways.
We saw the floor.
His silver cane rolled into view.
A dark shoe stepped on it.
Charles shouted.
The sound stopped abruptly.
The screen went black.
Clara’s feed remained.
She looked around, confused.
The masked man removed the syringe cap.
Then, to my surprise, he dropped the syringe onto the floor.
He reached behind his head.
He pulled off the mask.
Sienna screamed.
Nathan fell backward into a chair.
Uncle Richard whispered, “No.”
The man on the screen was in his early forties.
Dark hair.
Sharp cheekbones.
A scar ran from his left temple to his jaw.
I had seen his face before.
Not in person.
In photographs.
Company files.
Old family albums.
He looked almost exactly like my father had looked at that age.
The man faced the camera.
“Hello, Julian.”
I stared at him.
“Who are you?”
He smiled without warmth.
“My name is Adrian Vale.”
The surname hit the room like another gunshot.
My mother shook her head violently.
“No.”
Adrian looked toward her through the camera.
“Yes, Evelyn.”
“You are dead.”
“I learned from the best.”
My chest tightened.
I looked at my mother.
“Who is he?”
She said nothing.
Adrian answered for her.
“I am Thomas Vale’s first son.”
The ballroom erupted.
People shouted.
Aunt Lorraine sat down heavily.
Uncle Richard covered his mouth.
Sienna stared at Adrian as though she had seen a ghost.
I could barely process the words.
“My father had another son.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“He had a son before he had you.”
I looked at Evelyn.
“You knew.”
Her face had gone gray.
“Yes.”
“Who was his mother?”
Margaret Bennett’s voice came from the gate feed.
“Rose.”
Every head turned toward the screen.
I felt the pieces rearrange.
Rose Bennett.
My father.
Clara’s mother.
Adrian Vale.
A child hidden from the family.
The trust.
The payments.
The photographs.
“Is Clara his sister?” I asked.
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
“Rose had Adrian many years before Clara.”
“Different fathers.”
My mind raced.
“Why was Adrian declared dead?”
My mother answered.
“Because Thomas believed he caused the fire.”
Adrian laughed.
“That is the story you wrote.”
“You were there,” Evelyn said.
“You opened the containment valve.”
“I was sixteen.”
“You knew what would happen.”
“I knew the building would evacuate.”
“It did not.”
“Because Charles disabled the alarm.”
The ballroom went quiet again.
Adrian looked directly into the camera.
“Charles caused the deaths.”
“Evelyn hid the report.”
“Thomas protected them both.”
“And Rose spent the rest of her life trying to prove it.”
I looked toward Margaret.
“Did Rose know Adrian was alive?”
“Yes.”
“Did Clara?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Adrian became dangerous.”
The words changed his expression.
For the first time, something human appeared.
Pain.
Then it vanished.
“I became useful,” he said.
“Danger came later.”
I stepped closer to the screen.
“Why did you take Clara?”
“To keep Charles from killing her.”
“You tied her to a chair.”
“She was drugged and frightened.”
“She tried to run through an unstable tunnel.”
“I restrained her to keep her alive.”
“Release her.”
“Not yet.”
My anger rose again.
“You are no different from them.”
Adrian’s eyes hardened.
“You know nothing about me.”
“I know my wife is tied up.”
“I know she is hurt.”
“I know you are using her to control this room.”
“That is enough.”
Clara looked at him.
“Adrian.”
He glanced down at her.
“Untie me.”
“No.”
“You said Charles was gone.”
“For now.”
“I will not run.”
“You already did.”
“I was trying to find Julian.”
Adrian looked back at the camera.
“He has never found you when it mattered.”
The words hit me hard.
Clara’s expression changed.
“Do not speak to me about my husband.”
“He left you here.”
“He did not know.”
“He should have.”
“So should you.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
Clara continued.
“You were watching.”
“You had cameras.”
“You knew what they were doing.”
“And you waited.”
The ballroom went silent.
Adrian stared at her.
That accusation reached somewhere my threats could not.
“You could have helped me months ago,” Clara said.
“You did not.”
“You waited until the will came.”
“You are using me too.”
For several seconds, Adrian said nothing.
Then he cut one of the cloth straps around her wrist.
Not both.
Just one.
“I kept you alive.”
Clara pulled her free hand against her chest.
“That is not the same as helping me.”
I felt a surge of pride so sharp it almost hurt.
Even in that room, Clara refused to surrender her voice.
Adrian looked at me again.
“The will must be opened.”
“Why?”
“Because Thomas left proof.”
“Of the fire?”
“Of everything.”
“Charles’s accounts.”
“Evelyn’s authorization.”
“The payments.”
“The false deaths.”
“The stolen shares.”
“And the identity of the person who truly controls Vale Meridian.”
I looked at the case attached to Mercer’s wrist.
“That person is named in the appendix.”
“Yes.”
“Who is it?”
“I do not know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I have spent twenty years trying to find out.”
My mother laughed bitterly.
“No.”
“You have spent twenty years trying to take it.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
“You took my name.”
“You took my inheritance.”
“You made Thomas bury me while I was still alive.”
“You threatened Clara.”
“I saved her from your partner.”
“Charles was never my partner.”
“He handled your money.”
“He blackmailed me.”
“You used him until he became inconvenient.”
My mother stepped toward the screen.
“Where is he?”
Adrian smiled.
“Alive.”
“For now.”
“What did you do?”
“What you taught me.”
“I removed the evidence from the room.”
Charles was not the evidence.
The will was.
Unless Charles knew something Adrian did not.
I looked at Marcus.
“Can you trace Clara’s feed?”
“We are close.”
Adrian heard him.
“Do not waste your time.”
“The signal is bouncing through the old foundry line.”
Marcus’s expression changed.
“What old foundry?”
Adrian looked at me.
“The estate was built above the original Meridian research site.”
I stared at him.
“That is impossible.”
“No.”
“Your father built the house after the company dissolved.”
“He built it to bury what remained.”
My mother closed her eyes.
Again, that was confirmation.
“The hidden rooms,” I said.
“The tunnels.”
“The fuel lines.”
“They were part of the laboratory.”
“Yes.”
Adrian looked toward Clara.
“And the gray room is the original records vault.”
Mercer lifted the metal case.
“The will must be opened there.”
“Why?”
“Because the appendix references physical evidence stored in the vault.”
“Evidence that only the heir can retrieve.”
“Which heir?”
Adrian smiled faintly.
“That is what we are about to discover.”
Marcus stepped close to me.
“This is a trap.”
“Yes.”
“Possibly multiple traps.”
“Yes.”
“We should evacuate the ballroom.”
“No.”
He looked at me sharply.
“Why?”
“Because Charles said all named parties needed to be present.”
“Adrian needs the will opened.”
“My mother needs it destroyed.”
“And someone followed Mercer.”
“Every person here is leverage.”
Marcus considered that.
Then he nodded reluctantly.
I looked at Mercer.
“Drive to the west service entrance.”
My mother spoke immediately.
“No.”
I ignored her.
“Marcus will send an armored escort.”
Mercer looked at Margaret.
She nodded.
“We are coming in,” he said.
Charles’s black screen suddenly flickered.
A broken image appeared.
He was on the floor.
Blood ran from his forehead.
His hands were tied behind his back.
Adrian stood over him.
The two feeds had merged.
Charles looked up at the camera.
“Julian.”
His voice was weak.
“Do not open the will.”
Adrian struck him across the face.
Clara flinched.
“Stop,” she said.
Adrian looked at her.
“He drugged you.”
“That does not give you the right to torture him.”
“He killed four people.”
“Then prove it.”
“Do not become him.”
For a moment, Adrian looked almost ashamed.
Then Charles laughed through the blood.
“She sounds like Rose.”
Adrian turned back to him.
“Do not say her name.”
Charles looked toward the camera.
“There is something Adrian has not told you.”
Adrian reached for the feed control.
Charles shouted quickly.
“The original will does not name one heir.”
Adrian froze.
The ballroom went silent.
Charles smiled despite the blood on his teeth.
“It names two.”
I looked at Adrian.
“What does that mean?”
He said nothing.
Charles continued.
“Thomas divided the controlling interest.”
“Half to the son he acknowledged.”
“Half to the son he betrayed.”
My chest tightened.
Adrian’s face became unreadable.
I understood.
“You are named in the will.”
“Yes,” Charles said.
“Adrian is not trying to discover the heir.”
“He already knows.”
Adrian cut the feed.
The screen went black.
Clara disappeared with him.
My mother began laughing.
It started quietly.
Then grew.
People stared at her.
I turned.
“What is funny?”
She wiped one tear from the corner of her eye.
“Thomas always believed he could control the future.”
“He could not even control his sons.”
I stepped closer.
“You knew the will named Adrian.”
“I suspected.”
“That is why you tried to burn it.”
“No.”
She looked toward the gate feed.
“I tried to burn it because of the second appendix.”
Mercer’s face changed.
Margaret closed her eyes.
I looked between them.
“What is in the second appendix?”
No one answered.
I raised my voice.
“What is in it?”
Margaret spoke.
“The truth about Thomas’s death.”
The room became still.
My father had died seven years earlier after collapsing in his study.
The official cause was cardiac arrest.
I had found him beside the fireplace.
My mother had been at a charity dinner.
Charles handled the legal aftermath.
Dr. Keller had signed the preliminary medical documents based on hospital findings.
There had been no autopsy.
My mother said Thomas had feared doctors.
I had accepted it.
I had been grieving.
I had accepted too many things.
“What truth?” I asked.
Margaret looked directly at Evelyn.
“Thomas did not die from natural causes.”
My mother’s face became empty.
Mercer tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
Margaret continued.
“He was poisoned.”
I felt the ballroom disappear around me.
“Who poisoned him?”
Margaret’s lips trembled.
Before she could answer, the gate camera shook.
The rear window of the sedan exploded inward.
Mercer ducked.
Margaret screamed.
A black SUV crashed through the outer gate.
Security opened fire.
The ballroom monitors filled with white flashes.
The sedan lurched forward.
The metal case slammed against the dashboard.
Marcus shouted orders.
“West team move.”
“Cover the sedan.”
“Return fire.”
“Get them inside.”
Onscreen, a masked shooter stepped from the SUV.
He raised a rifle toward Mercer.
Then another figure appeared behind him.
A shot rang out.
The masked man collapsed.
For one second, I thought security had hit him.
Then the second figure walked into the gate lights.
He wore a dark coat.
He carried a handgun.
Blood covered the side of his face.
Charles Whitmore looked directly into the camera.
He had escaped Adrian.
Again.
He raised the gun toward Mercer’s sedan.
May you like
“Open the gate, Julian.”
“Or the will burns with everyone inside it.”
