Chapter 13 - The Ambush on the Merritt
The rain battered against the reinforced glass like a thousand lead bullets.
Behind them, the blinding high beams of three black SUVs illuminated the dark parkway.
Men dressed in black tactical gear stepped out of the vehicles, carrying heavy breaching tools.
Grace held her breath, her hand pressed against Victoria’s chest to feel the steady beat of her daughter’s tiny heart.
Victoria began to whimper, disturbed by the abrupt stop and the sharp smell of burning rubber.
"Shh, my angel," Grace whispered, her voice trembling but resolute.
"Mommy is right here. You are safe."
Declan remained completely calm.
His heart rate did not appear to rise by a single beat.
He pressed the button for the internal intercom.
"Driver, engage the ramming guard."
"Marcus, execute defensive perimeter Delta."
"Declan, what are they trying to do?" Grace asked, her eyes darting between the men advancing from the rear and the massive logging truck blocking the front.
"They don't want to kill us," Declan said coldly, watching the rearview mirror.
"A dead heiress means an open probate court battle."
"In probate, the Swiss debt would be scrutinized by federal judges and thrown out within a week."
"They want the baby."
The words hit Grace like a physical blow to the stomach.
"They want leverage," Declan continued, his voice dripping with venom.
"If Arthur Calloway holds Victoria, you will sign over Vance Maritime Logistics, the shipping lanes, and every dollar of your father’s trust without reading a single page."
"I would rather burn the world down," Grace snarled, her motherly instinct flaring into savage fury.
"I know," Declan said, glancing at her with fierce pride.
"Which is why we are going to break them right now."
The lead Escalade suddenly engaged its reverse thrusters.
Its steel-reinforced rear bumper smashed backward into the first attacking SUV with an ear-splitting crash.
Metal crumpled.
Radiator fluid sprayed into the headlights.
The attackers scattered as the Escalade pinned two of their vehicles against the concrete guardrail.
Simultaneously, the driver of Declan's Maybach floored the accelerator.
The heavy six-ton armored vehicle surged forward.
The custom steel plow attached to the front chassis slammed into the side of the overturned logging truck.
The impact shuddered through the cabin.
Grace braced herself against the bulkhead, keeping her body wrapped completely around Victoria’s seat.
The sound of shrieking metal roared through the night as the Maybach forced its way through the wreckage, pushing hundreds of pounds of timber off the road.
Gunfire erupted behind them.
Bullets pinged uselessly against the Maybach’s class-seven ballistic glass, leaving spider-web fractures that did not breach the interior.
Declan rolled down his window two inches.
He raised his weapon.
Two controlled shots echoed in rapid succession.
The front tire of the remaining pursuing SUV blew out instantly.
The vehicle spun wildly out of control, careening off the shoulder and plunging down the steep embankment into the dark Connecticut woods.
The Maybach burst through the gap in the roadblock and accelerated up the highway, leaving the flaming wreckage behind.
Grace sat up slowly, exhaling a breath she had held for an eternity.
Victoria let out a loud cry.
Grace immediately unbuckled herself, lifted the baby into her arms, and held her against her chest, rocking her with fierce tenderness.
"It's over, darling," Grace whispered, kissing Victoria’s forehead.
"You're safe. We're safe."
Declan holstered his weapon and turned to Grace.
He looked at the young mother holding her child, seeing the fierce, unbroken fire in her eyes.
He had dealt with cutthroat venture capitalists, foreign oligarchs, and corrupt politicians for ten years.
He had never seen bravery like the woman sitting across from him.
"Marcus," Declan spoke into the comms.
"Sir?" Marcus’s voice crackled through the speaker.
"Call our private airfield in White Plains."
"Scramble the Gulfstream."
"We are not going to wait for Arthur Calloway to send another team of mercenaries to Greenwich."
Grace looked up, her eyes narrowing.
"Where are we going, Declan?"
Declan leaned back into his seat, his eyes gleaming like polished steel.
May you like
"We are going to Zurich."
"We are going to dismantle the Sterling Consortium in their own backyard."
