The Lockdown

The gun didn't waver. Julian stared at Elias, his face a mask of contempt. The revelation—that Sabrina was not his blood, that Sarah Miller was her sister—seemed to slide off him like water off stone. He was already recalibrating, already calculating the new odds.

"Put the tire iron down, Elias," he said. "Or I put a bullet in your cousin's head."

He shifted the aim, pointing the gun directly at Iris.

Elias hesitated. The tire iron was heavy in his hand, a rusty length of steel. He looked at Iris. He looked at Sabrina.

"Don't do it," Iris said.

"Listen to her," Julian said. "You're not a killer, Elias. You're a soft, broken little man. You can't hurt me."

"I'm not broken," Elias whispered.

He didn't drop the iron. He stepped forward.

Julian fired.

The sound was a crack of thunder in the quiet clearing.

Sabrina screamed.

But the bullet didn't hit Elias. It slammed into the dirt at his feet, spraying mud over his bare ankles.

A warning shot.

"The next one goes in your chest," Julian said.

Elias stopped. He looked down at the mud. Then he looked up, and his eyes were clear.

"You won't shoot me," he said. "Because if I die, the trust dissolves. It goes to charity. You get nothing."

Julian’s eye twitched. He knew the terms. He had written them.

"I can keep you alive," Julian snarled. "I can keep you in a coma. I can make you wish you were dead."

"Not anymore," Elias said.

He took another step.

Julian backed up, bumping against the Jaguar. He looked around wildly. He was losing control. The chessboard had flipped.

He looked at Sabrina. "Get in the car."

"No," Sabrina said, clutching the tape.

"Get in the car!"

He lunged for her, grabbing her arm. He was going to use her as a shield, or maybe a hostage.

But as he grabbed her, he dropped his guard for a split second.

And that was enough.

Elias swung the tire iron.

It wasn't a graceful arc. It was a desperate, clumsy blow, fueled by thirty years of darkness.

The iron connected with Julian’s wrist.

There was a sickening crunch of bone. Julian screamed, dropping the gun. It fell into the mud.

Iris dove for it. She grabbed the cold metal, rolling onto her back, aiming it up at him.

"Back off!" she shouted.

Julian clutched his broken wrist, his face pale with shock. He looked at the gun in Iris's hand. He looked at Elias, who was standing over him, the tire iron raised for a second blow.

"You won't shoot," Julian sneered, though his voice was thin with pain. "You're a Vance, Iris. We don't solve things with violence. We solve them with lawyers."

"I'm done with lawyers," Iris said, her finger tightening on the trigger.

Sirens wailed in the distance, getting louder. Someone must have heard the gunshot.

"Go," Iris said to Sabrina. "Take Elias. Get him somewhere safe."

"What about you?" Sabrina asked.

"I'll hold him here," Iris said. "Go!"

Sabrina grabbed Elias's arm. "Come on."

They ran for the Lexus. Sabrina shoved Elias into the passenger seat and jumped in behind the wheel. The car roared to life, spraying mud as it reversed out of the clearing.

Iris watched them go. Then she looked back at Julian.

He was smiling.

"You think you've won," he said. "But you've just made it worse. You just let a mentally unstable man kidnap my daughter."

"She's not your daughter," Iris said. "She knows."

"Does she?" Julian laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "And who is she going to believe? The crazy cousin who burned down the house? Or the father who gave her everything?"

He took a step toward her.

"Stay back," Iris warned.

"Or what? You'll shoot an unarmed man? An injured man? Think about the headlines, Iris. *Heiress Murders Uncle in Cold Blood.*"

He was right. If she shot him, she lost.

But if she didn't...

A truck pulled into the clearing, blocking the exit.

It wasn't the police.

It was a large, white box truck. No markings.

Two men got out. They were wearing dark uniforms. They weren't cops. They were private security. Julian’s men.

Julian smiled. "Reinforcements."

The men approached Iris, tasers drawn.

She looked at the gun. She looked at the men.

She was outgunned. Outmanned.

She dropped the pistol in the mud.

The men grabbed her. They didn't cuff her. They dragged her toward the truck.

"Where are you taking me?" she screamed.

"We're taking you to get help," Julian said, cradling his wrist. "And we're going to find Elias. He needs his medication."

They threw her into the back of the truck. It was empty, except for a stretcher and a set of restraints.

The doors slammed shut, plunging her into darkness.

As the engine rumbled to life, she heard one of the men speak through the partition.

"Destination?"

"The airfield," Julian said. "Prepare the jet. We're moving the patient."

"Which one?"

"Both of them."