Chapter 12: The Vacant Throne
It took three hours for the new arrival to stop shaking. Her name was Chloe.
Marcus had managed to treat her physical injuries—a dislocated shoulder, two cracked ribs, and severe hypothermia—while Elena sat by her side, holding her uninjured hand and speaking in low, soothing tones. I stood near the door, keeping watch over the tree line through the frosted windows.
When dawn finally broke, casting a pale, gray light into the clinic, Chloe looked up at me.
"You're Isabella Vanguard," she rasped, her voice hoarse.
I stiffened. I had dropped the Vanguard name the moment the divorce papers were finalized, reverting to my maiden name, Rossi. But in the circles this girl had likely come from, my former title was infamous.
"I'm Isabella," I corrected gently. "How did you find us, Chloe?"
She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "A woman... a maid at the estate I was kept at. She saw the news about your husband last year. She whispered your name to me once. Said if I ever got out, I should look for the woman who burned the king."
I exchanged a glance with Marcus. We had kept the location of our sanctuary strictly off the grid. Only a few trusted social workers and an FBI liaison knew how to find us. But desperate people have a way of finding hope in the dark.
"You're safe here," Elena promised her. "Whoever did this to you, they can't reach you now."
Chloe let out a bitter, broken laugh. A tear slipped down her bruised cheek. "You don't understand. Richard Vanguard was a businessman. He had rules. The man who took his place... the man who bought Richard's remaining debts... he doesn't have rules."
My blood ran cold. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. "Who, Chloe? Who did you run from?"
"Silas Vance," she whispered, the name dropping into the room like a live grenade.
I closed my eyes, a wave of nausea washing over me. During my frantic dive into Richard’s Black Ledger, there was one folder I couldn't decrypt. It was heavily encrypted, labeled simply S.V. When I handed the drives to the FBI, my contact had told me that Silas Vance was Richard's phantom—the "fixer" who handled the bodies, the disappearances, and the intimidation that Richard’s corporate hands couldn't touch. When the FBI raided Vanguard Corp, Silas had vanished like smoke.
Nature abhors a vacuum. With Richard gone, the worst of his empire had been inherited by a man who thrived entirely in the shadows.
"He knows I ran," Chloe continued, her voice trembling violently. "I stole his phone. I was trying to find evidence, like you did. But he caught me. I barely got away. He's hunting me, Isabella. And he doesn't leave loose ends."
Marcus stepped forward, his face hardening into the soldier I had met in the alleyway a year ago. "Did you have your cell phone on you when you came up the mountain?"
Chloe shook her head. "I threw it in a river fifty miles back. But... but his men, they have trackers. On everything."
"Check her," Marcus ordered quietly, putting on a fresh pair of gloves.
Ten minutes later, Marcus found it. It was a microscopic GPS chip, surgically embedded in the thick heel of Chloe's expensive leather boot. He dug it out with a scalpel, the tiny red light blinking mockingly up at us.
He dropped it onto a metal tray and smashed it with the butt of his flashlight. But the damage was done.
"How long has she been here?" I asked, my voice deadly calm.
"Three hours," Marcus replied grimly.
May you like
I looked out the window. The peaceful Oregon forest suddenly felt like a cage. Silas Vance wasn't a man who called the police or filed lawsuits. He was a man who sent strike teams.
"Lock down the lodge," I commanded, the old, icy resolve flooding back into my veins. "Move all the residents to the basement storm shelter. Now."
