Chapter 8 - The Fall of the Trustees
The doors of the express elevator burst open with a deafening crash.
A dozen FBI tactical officers poured into the corridor, laser sights painting Richard Vance’s chest in bright red dots.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS IMMEDIATELY!" the lead agent roared.
The four marshals behind Vance instantly dropped their weapons, raising their hands above their heads.
Vance stared at William with pure, unadulterated hatred. For a split second, his finger tightened on the trigger.
THWACK.
Frank stepped out from a side maintenance door, striking Vance across the back of the knees with a heavy tactical baton. Vance collapsed to the concrete floor, his gun skittering across the room. Two FBI agents tackled him, slamming his face into the floor and wrenching his hands behind his back into heavy steel cuffs.
"Richard Vance," the lead federal agent announced, standing over him. "You are under arrest for federal conspiracy, grand larceny, and the murder of Sarah Reynolds."
William didn't stay to watch Vance get dragged away.
He turned on his heel and walked back into the climate-controlled vault.
Emma was standing by the server rack, tears running down her cheeks as she listened to the police sirens above.
"Is it over?" she asked in a tiny, breaking voice.
William walked over, kneeling down beside her, and gently placed a warm hand on her shoulder.
May you like
"It's over, Emma," William said softly. "They're never going to hurt you or Noah again."
Emma let out a ragged sob, collapsing against William’s chest. The young girl who had stayed so strong, who had carried a baby across three states, who had asked for leftovers at a luxury restaurant just to keep them alive, finally let go of all her fear, weeping freely into the shoulder of the millionaire who had chosen to listen.
