Chapter 4: The Predator’s Strike
The danger wasn't theoretical anymore. It was knocking on our doors. Julian and I retreated to his secure facility outside the city, a place even his own board didn't know about.
"They’re coming for us, aren't they?" I asked, looking out at the woods surrounding the house.
"Sterling is," Julian said, checking the magazine of a handgun. I had never seen him like this. The tech mogul was gone; in his place was a man fighting for his survival.
The attack came at 3:00 AM.
Floodlights shattered. The heavy thud of boots on the porch echoed through the house. It wasn't the police. It was a professional cleanup crew.
"Get to the panic room," Julian ordered, pushing me toward the hallway.
"I'm not leaving you!"
"Clara, go!"
I obeyed, locking myself in the secure room, but I didn't sit still. I used the house’s internal security feed to monitor the living room. I watched as Julian, armed and calculated, outmaneuvered the intruders. He was good. Better than they expected.
But there was a second wave. I watched the screen as a figure stepped into the frame. It was Seraphina. She had been released on a technicality—a bribe, surely—and she was leading the charge.
She walked into the living room, a gun in her hand, pointing it at Julian, who was cornered near the fireplace.
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"You were always so smart, Julian," she cooed, her voice distorted by the speaker. "But you never learned how to read the fine print."
She moved to pull the trigger, but she hesitated. She looked directly into the camera lens—looking at me. "I know you're watching, Clara. And I'm going to enjoy ending this."
