Chapter 7 - THE BLACKTHORN FILES
The narrow brick stairwell turned into a tempest of chaos as Titan slammed into the lead mercenary at full speed, knocking the heavy assault rifle clean out of the man’s hands.
The man screamed in sheer terror as 145 pounds of unstoppable muscle drove him backward down the steps, slamming his head against the concrete floor.
The second mercenary panicked, spraying a wild burst of gunfire into the dark ceiling. Bullets ricocheted off the brick walls, sparking violently.
"FALL BACK! FALL BACK!" the man shrieked, scrambling backward up the stairs into the kitchen above.
Titan didn't pursue him up the steps. He turned back, taking his position at the base of the stairs, standing like a dark sentinel, his chest breathing heavily, guarding Emily and the glowing vault door.
Behind him, Emily stared at the blue terminal screen, her hands shaking violently as the progress bar crept upward.
TRANSFER STATUS: 78%... 84%... 92%...
"Just a few more seconds," Emily whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.
TRANSFER STATUS: 100%. UPLOAD COMPLETE.FILE SENT TO: US_DISTRICT_ATTORNEY_SDNYFEDERAL ENCRYPTION ACKNOWLEDGED.
A loud, green checkmark flashed on the screen, followed by a sudden, automated chime that echoed through the basement.
Emily let out a long, ragged breath, collapsing back against the cool steel of the vault door. "We did it... Titan, we did it."
The dog turned his head toward her, letting out a soft, short bark as if he understood every single word.
Suddenly, Emily’s phone chimed in her hand. A video call notification popped up on the screen. The caller ID read: UNKNOWN SATELLITE.
Emily hit accept.
The screen lit up, showing the interior of a sleek, private jet.
Sitting in a leather seat, handcuffed to an armrest, was Grant Callahan. He looked pale, his white bandages visible under his shirt, but his eyes were bright, calm, and utterly unfazed.
Standing beside him, holding the satellite phone, was Julian Callahan.
Julian’s face was twisted in an expression of absolute rage. "I don't know who you think you are, Nurse Carter," Julian hissed into the camera, "but your little games end right now."
Julian turned the camera, showing four armed guards standing near the front of the cabin, their weapons drawn.
"I have Grant," Julian sneered. "We just took off from Charleston Private Airfield. In thirty minutes, we will be in international airspace. Whatever files you just uploaded down in that cellar don't mean a damn thing if the primary witness is dead."
Emily looked at the screen, her eyes narrowing into cold slits. "You're too late, Julian."
Julian chuckled darkly. "Too late? I own the plane, Nurse Carter. I own the sky. I’m going to throw my brother out of this cabin over the Atlantic, and there isn't a single person on earth who can stop me."
"Check your flight navigation display, Julian," a low, raspy voice spoke up from the screen.
Julian froze, looking down at Grant.
Grant smiled—a cold, terrifying smile that sent a shiver through the phone screen.
"Did you really think Jack didn't control the maintenance crew at Charleston Private Airfield, Julian?" Grant said softly. "You didn't board a private jet to London. You boarded an impounded federal transport plane."
Before Julian could react, a loud explosion rocked the cabin on the screen.
The cockpit door of the jet burst open, and smoke grenades detonated inside the cabin. Four heavily armed FBI Hostage Rescue Team operators poured into the aisle, shouting commands at the top of their lungs.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS NOW!"
Julian dropped the phone in absolute shock as the camera tumbled to the carpeted floor of the jet. On the screen, Emily watched as federal agents tackled Julian’s bodyguards to the floor, pinning Julian himself against the leather seats, slapping steel handcuffs onto his wrists.
Through the chaotic video feed, Grant slowly reached down, picking up the fallen phone. He brought it up to his face, looking directly at Emily.
"The files went through, Emily," Grant said softly, his voice full of deep emotion. "The U.S. Attorney received the Blackthorn ledger thirty seconds ago. It's over."
Emily felt tears break past her lashes, a massive grin spreading across her face. "You're safe, Grant."
"I’m safe," Grant agreed. He looked down at the dark form of Titan visible in the corner of her camera frame. "And tell that dog of mine he's getting the biggest steak in South Carolina when I get back."
Titan raised his head, letting out a joyful, loud bark that echoed through the cellar.
Twenty minutes later, the storm outside began to clear, breaking apart to reveal the pale pink light of dawn over the ocean.
Sirens echoed down the long driveway of the Sullivan’s Island estate as six Charleston Police cruisers and two FBI sedans pulled up to the grand entrance.
Jack Mercer stepped out of the lead police car, wearing his dark trench coat, a wide grin on his face as he walked into the ruined mansion.
He walked down into the wine cellar, finding Emily sitting on the bottom step, drinking a bottle of cold water, with Titan lying contentedly across her feet.
Jack leaned against the wall, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. "You know, Nurse Carter... when I first saw you walk into that ballroom last night in your cheap sneakers, I thought you were crazy."
Emily looked up from her water bottle, smiling softly. "I was crazy."
"No," Jack said, his tone turning sincere and respectful. "You were the only sane person in the room."
May you like
He reached out, offering her a hand to help her up.
"Come on, Emily," Jack said softly. "Let's go home. Grant’s waiting for us."
