Chapter 60: The Siege

Elena didn’t hang up. She dropped the burner phone into her pocket, the heat of the device radiating against her thigh like a live coal. Outside, the black sedan’s doors remained shut, but the orange glow of the cigarette was gone, replaced by the faint, rhythmic blink of a signal light. A call was being made. Coordinates were being shared.

She moved to the guest room door and eased it open. The hallway was a tunnel of velvet shadows, the only light leaking from the kitchen downstairs. She needed to get to Mia before the "security" Julianne promised turned the house into a cage.

She reached Mia’s door, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She didn't knock. She stepped inside, the air smelling of lavender and old textbooks. Mia was sitting up in bed, the silk robe discarded on a chair, her laptop light casting a clinical blue pallor over her features.

"Mom? What’s going on? I heard you on the stairs."

"Get your shoes on, Mia. Now." Elena’s voice was a ragged whisper. She went to the window, keeping behind the frame as she peered through a sliver in the blinds.

The cul-de-sac was no longer empty. Two more vehicles had pulled in—blacked-out SUVs that flanked the idling sedan. Men were stepping out, their movements synchronized and professional. They weren't wearing police uniforms. They were carrying equipment cases that didn't look like locksmith tools.

"Is it Aunt Julianne?" Mia asked, her voice trembling. She stood up, clutching a sweater to her chest. "She said people might come. She said there were people from the gallery who were... obsessive."

"It’s not the gallery, Mia. It’s the ledger. It’s everything."

The heavy thud of a car door echoed from the driveway. Elena didn't need to look to know they had breached the perimeter. She grabbed Mia’s arm, pulling her toward the door, but the hallway was already flooded with light.

Julianne stood at the top of the stairs. She was still wearing her silk dress, but she was draped in a floor-length wool coat, her face a mask of terrifying, composed urgency. Behind her, two men in tactical gear stood like stone pillars, their eyes scanning the landing.

"Elena, move aside," Julianne commanded. She didn't look at Elena. Her eyes were fixed on Mia, a predatory hunger masked as concern. "The situation has escalated. We’re moving her to the safe house in Greenwich."

"You aren't moving her anywhere," Elena said, stepping in front of Mia. The fury in her gut was a cold, sharp blade. "You used my house as a decoy. You put a target on her so you could track Thorne."

Julianne reached out, her fingers catching Mia’s chin with a proprietary squeeze. She ignored Elena entirely, her voice dropping into a soothing, manipulative coo.

"Don't listen to her, darling. The stress has made her confused. These men are here to keep the bad people away. It’s just a stalker from my gallery, darling. Auntie will handle it."

"It's just a stalker from my gallery, darling. Auntie will handle it."