Chapter 14 - The Warden’s Urgent Midnight Call
Julian sprinted toward the service lift, his heart feeling as though it would rupture through his ribs, but before he could press the call button, his smartphone buzzed with deafening urgency in his pocket. He answered without looking at the caller ID, keeping his weapon trained on the elevator doors as the heavy steel cables began to groan above him. “Julian, this is Warden Patricia Miller from Bedford Hills,” a breathless, terrified voice shouted over the sound of blaring sirens and automatic gunfire in the background.
“Warden, what is happening?” Julian demanded, his voice echoing sharply against the stone cellar walls. “Julian, you need to evacuate your family immediately,” Miller screamed, the chaos on her end threatening to drown her out completely. “Forty minutes ago, an armed paramilitary transport ambushed the state correctional van transferring Evelyn to the regional medical infirmary; they used military-grade thermite and smoke grenades, blew the armored doors off, and executed six state troopers in broad daylight on Interstate 87!”
The world seemed to spin beneath Julian’s feet as the horrific reality crashed down upon him: Evelyn was free, weaponized, and backed by professional killers who moved with surgical precision. “Where is she headed?” Julian roared into the receiver, though deep in his soul he already knew the answer. “The escape convoy split into three decoys heading south toward Westchester,” Miller shouted before the connection dissolved into screeching static and went completely dead.
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Upstairs, the distinct, sickening sound of breaking glass echoed down through the ventilation shaft, followed by the muffled thud of a body collapsing onto the marble floor of the foyer. Julian turned to his head of security, his eyes blazing with ferocious protective instinct: “Lock down the cellar exits, cut the power to the main grid, and switch to auxiliary infrared!” With weapons drawn, Julian and the guards surged up the spiral staircase into the darkness of the main house, where the smell of cordite and bitter almonds already hung thick in the air.
As Julian rounded the corner into the grand dining room, the flash of lightning revealed a horrifying tableau frozen in time. The private guard assigned to the inner sanctum lay slumped against the grand mahogany table, incapacitated by a tranquilizer dart lodged in his neck, while Maria stood bravely before Eleanor’s locked door, clutching a heavy iron fireplace poker with both hands. Standing ten feet away from her in the pitch darkness was a slender figure clad in black tactical gear, casually removing a wet ski mask to reveal long, raven hair and a face identical to Evelyn’s—except for a chilling, crescent scar slicing through her left eyebrow.
