The Betrayal

I stood on the wet asphalt, the rain plastering my hair to my face, and stared into the darkness of the woods.

Behind me, the Range Rover idled, its engine a low, predatory growl.

He was waiting.

He had a gun. He had a plan. And he had me.

But he didn't have Sarah.

I turned back to the car.

"Where is she?" I asked.

Julian didn't look at me. He was watching the tree line, his eyes scanning for movement. "She's gone, Elena. She ran."

"You let her run?"

"I don't care about her," he said. "I care about you."

He gestured to the passenger seat.

"Get in."

I looked at the open door. The leather seat looked warm. Inviting. Safe.

But it wasn't safe. It was a cage.

"I'm not getting in that car," I said.

Julian sighed. He reached across the console and opened the glove box. He pulled out a bottle of water.

"You're dehydrated," he said. "You're in shock. Drink this."

He tossed the bottle to me.

I caught it.

It was sealed. Poland Spring.

I looked at it.

"Is it drugged?" I asked.

"It's water, Elena. Just water."

I cracked the seal. I took a sip. It tasted like plastic and minerals.

"We have to go," he said. "Thorne's men are coming."

"Thorne's men are dead," I said. "Or incapacitated."

"There are always more men," he said. "Thorne has resources you can't even imagine. He has a private security force that makes the police look like mall cops."

He checked his watch. The Rolex Daytona.

"We have ten minutes to get to the airfield."

"I'm not going to the airfield," I said. "I'm going to the police."

"The police won't help you," he said. "Gorski is on Thorne's payroll. The DA is in his pocket. If you go to the cops, you'll disappear before you can sign a statement."

I stared at him.

"And if I go with you?"

"We disappear together," he said. "To a place where he can't find us."

"Like Sarah disappeared?"

He flinched. Just a little. But I saw it.

"Sarah was different," he said. "She was... complicated."

"She was your wife."

"She was a liability," he corrected. "And she tried to kill me."

"Maybe she had a reason."

He looked at me. His eyes were dark, intense.

"Elena," he said. "I love you. I built this whole world for you. I staged the break-ins to show you that you weren't safe without me. I did it because I was afraid of losing you."

It was the most honest thing he had ever said.

And it was the most terrifying.

"You're sick," I whispered.

"I'm devoted," he said.

He reached into his pocket.

I tensed, ready to run.

But he didn't pull out a gun.

He pulled out a ring.

My ring. The engagement ring I had left on the nightstand the day I walked out. A vintage Asscher cut diamond, set in platinum.

He held it out.

"Come home, El."

I looked at the ring. It glittered in the dim light of the dashboard.

It was beautiful. It was expensive.

It was a shackle.

I looked at him.

"No," I said.

His face hardened. The mask slipped back into place.

"Fine," he said. "Have it your way."

He reached for the gear shift.

"Wait," I said.

He paused.

"I need to get my bag," I lied. "It's in the woods. Where I dropped it."

"Leave it."

"It has the hard drive," I said. "The one with the evidence against Thorne."

Julian froze.

"You have the drive?"

"Yes. Leo gave it to me."

He looked at the woods. He looked at me.

"Go get it," he said. "Quickly."

I turned and walked toward the tree line.

I didn't have the drive. It was in the pocket of my jacket, which I was wearing.

But I needed distance. I needed him to look away.

I walked into the shadows.

I pulled out the burner phone.

One bar.

I typed a message.

*Help.*

I sent it to the only number stored in the phone.

Sarah.

I waited.

Nothing.

"Elena!" Julian called from the car. "Time's up!"

I took a step deeper into the woods.

Then, a hand grabbed my arm.

I screamed.

A hand clamped over my mouth.

"Shh," a voice whispered.

It was Sarah.

She was covered in mud. Her face was scratched. But she was alive.

"He's watching," she hissed. "Don't move."

She pulled me down into the ferns.

We crouched there, listening.

The car door opened.

"Elena?" Julian called.

His footsteps crunched on the gravel. He was coming.

Sarah reached into her coat. She pulled out a flare gun.

"Where did you get that?" I whispered.

"Safety kit," she said. "From the Subaru."

She checked the chamber. Loaded.

"When he gets close," she whispered, "run for the car."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to light him up."

I looked at the flare gun. It was orange. Plastic. A toy compared to the weapons Julian had.

"It won't stop him," I said.

"It will blind him," she said. "Night vision goggles. He's wearing them."

I looked.

She was right. Julian had pulled down a set of goggles from his helmet.

He was scanning the woods.

"Ready?" Sarah whispered.

"Ready."

Julian stepped into the trees.

"Elena," he said. "I know you're in here."

He raised his rifle.

Sarah stood up.

She aimed the flare gun at his face.

*POP.*

A blinding red light exploded in the darkness.

Julian screamed. He ripped the goggles off his face, stumbling back.

"Run!" Sarah yelled.

I scrambled up the embankment. I ran for the Range Rover.

I jumped into the driver's seat.

The keys were in the ignition.

I turned the key.

The engine roared.

I threw it into drive.

But I didn't drive away.

I looked at the woods.

Sarah was running toward the car. Julian was behind her, firing blindly into the trees.

*Crack. Crack. Crack.*

Sarah stumbled. She fell.

"No!" I screamed.

I threw the car into reverse.

I backed up, tires spinning on the wet gravel.

I stopped next to Sarah.

"Get in!"

She dragged herself up. She was holding her leg.

"I'm hit," she gasped.

I leaned over and threw the passenger door open.

She pulled herself in.

I hit the gas.

The Range Rover shot forward.

Julian was running toward us. He raised the rifle.

He fired.

The back window shattered. Glass sprayed over the backseat.

I ducked.

"Go! Go!" Sarah screamed.

I floored it.

We fishtailed onto the service road.

We were moving. We were alive.

I looked in the rearview mirror.

Julian was standing in the middle of the road. He lowered the rifle.

He watched us go.

Then, he pulled out his phone.

"He's calling in the cavalry," Sarah said, wrapping her leg with a scarf.

"We need to get off the road," I said.

"Where?"

"The old logging trail," I said. "It connects to the highway near the airfield. It's overgrown. They won't see us from the air."

I turned the wheel. We bounced onto the dirt track.

The Range Rover handled the terrain easily. It was built for this.

We drove in silence for ten minutes.

"How bad is it?" I asked, glancing at Sarah's leg.

"Through and through," she said, gritting her teeth. "Muscle. No bone. I'll live."

She looked at me.

"You came back," she said.

"You saved me," I said.

"We're even."

We reached the highway.

I turned toward the city.

"Not the city," Sarah said. "The airfield."

"What?"

"We need a plane," she said. "We can't drive out of this. They'll have roadblocks."

"I don't know how to fly," I said.

"I do," she said.

I looked at her.

"You're a pilot?"

"I have a license," she said. "Julian paid for the lessons. Said it was a good skill for a wife to have. In case of emergency."

I laughed. A hysterical, jagged sound.

"He really did think of everything."

We drove to the airfield.

It was a small, private strip. A single hangar. A few Cessnas parked on the tarmac.

And one jet.

A Gulfstream. sleek. Black.

The tail number was familiar.

*VCM-01.*

Vance Crisis Management.

"That's his plane," I whispered.

"I know," Sarah said. "He keeps it fueled. Ready for extraction."

We drove up to the gate. I rammed it. The chain snapped.

We drove onto the tarmac.

I stopped next to the jet.

The stairs were down.

"Can you walk?" I asked.

"I can limp," Sarah said.

We got out of the car. We ran for the plane.

I helped Sarah up the stairs.

The cabin was luxurious. Leather seats. Mahogany trim. A bar.

It smelled like Julian.

Sarah limped to the cockpit. She sat in the pilot's seat.

"Strap in," she said. "This is going to be rough."

I sat in the co-pilot's seat. I put on the headset.

Sarah started the engines.

They whined to life.

I looked out the window.

Headlights.

Coming down the runway.

Three black SUVs.

"They're here," I said.

"Hold on," Sarah said.

She pushed the throttle forward.

The jet lurched. We started to move.

The SUVs were gaining. They were driving parallel to us.

One of the windows rolled down.

A man leaned out. He had a rocket launcher.

"RPG!" I screamed.

Sarah yanked the yoke back.

The nose lifted.

We were airborne.

The rocket streak passed under us. It hit a Cessna parked near the hangar.

*BOOM.*

The explosion lit up the night.

We climbed. Higher. Higher.

The SUVs shrank to toys. The fire became a candle flame.

We were in the clouds.

Safe.

I took off the headset. I leaned back.

"We made it," I whispered.

Sarah didn't answer.

She was staring at the instrument panel.

"What is it?" I asked.

"The fuel gauge," she said.

I looked.

It was empty.

"What?"

"It's empty," she said. "The tanks are dry."

"But... the engines are running."

"Vapor," she said. "We have maybe five minutes."

"How is that possible? He keeps it fueled!"

"Unless someone drained it," she said.

My phone buzzed. The burner.

*Did you think I'd leave the backdoor open?*

I stared at the text.

It was Julian.

He knew.

He knew we would take the plane.

He wanted us in the air.

Because you can't run when you're falling.

"We have to land," I said.

"Where?" Sarah asked. "We're over the Sound."

"Water landing," I said. "Sully style."

Sarah looked at me. She smiled. A grim, terrified smile.

"Buckle up, Architect," she said. "This is going to hurt."

She dipped the nose.

We dove toward the black water.

I closed my eyes.

And I prayed that this time, the crash would kill us.

Because if we survived