Chapter 11 - The Fixer Returns
Before Julian could answer, the sharp, deafening sound of shattering glass erupted from the dining room window.
A heavy brick wrapped in black cloth crashed through the leaded glass pane, showering the oak floor with crystal fragments. The heavy wooden window frame was kicked violently inward, and a figure scrambled through the opening with lethal, practiced speed.
It was Rachel.
She had not fled the estate grounds. She had doubled back through the surrounding woods, realizing that her contract was falling apart, and returned to retrieve her money—or eliminate any remaining witnesses.
Rachel held a long, silver hunting knife in her right hand. Her red apron was gone, replaced by a dark leather jacket, her face contorted into an animalistic snarl of pure desperation.
"Nobody leaves!" Rachel screamed, her eyes wild, sweeping over the room until they landed on Julian. "You set me up, Vance! You gave me the wrong target!"
Julian shrank back against the locked door. "Rachel! Put the knife down! We can fix this!"
"Fix this?!" Rachel shrieked, taking a heavy step forward, the knife gleaming in the sunlight. "The cops are going to be all over this valley in an hour! You give me the offshore access codes right now, or I swear to God I'll gut every single person in this room!"
Chloe screamed, backing toward her mother.
Nora, however, did not move an inch. She stood tall in her cream cardigan, her posture unyielding, looking at the armed assassin with absolute disdain.
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"You are in my house, Rachel," Nora said, her voice dropping into a tone of chilling, quiet terror. "And you have ruined my hardwood floor twice in one morning."
"Shut up, old woman!" Rachel roared, lunging forward with the knife aimed directly at Nora’s chest.
