The mirror shattered before I could even register the pain. Through the spiderweb of cracked glass, my reflection split into pale, fractured pieces.

The sound of boots heavy tactical footfalls echoed through the hallways like thunder. Glass shattered in the main living room as federal entry teams breached multiple entry points simultaneously.

"Feds?!" Chairman Harrison yelled, dropping his scotch glass. "What the hell are federal agents doing here?!"

"Vance, what did you do?!" Arthur roared, pulling a silver hand-gun from his desk drawer with a frantic, trembling hand.

Vance stood frozen in the dark study, his face illuminated only by the flashing red and blue strobe lights cutting through the shattered windows outside. He looked at me, then down at the floor where the window glass lay broken, his mind frantically trying to piece together how his private estate had been turned into a warzone in seconds.

"It was her," Vance gasped, his eyes snapping to mine with realization. "The black thing... under the tub!"

Before he could reach for me, I dropped low.

I grabbed the heavy brass desk lamp off Arthur's table and swung it with everything I had left. The solid metal base hit Vance straight across his knee.

He shrieked in agony, his leg buckling as he collapsed onto the carpet, clutching his shattered kneecap.

"You bitch!" Vance screamed, thrashing on the floor.

I sprinted toward the study door, tearing it open and diving out into the main hallway just as a tactical flash-light swept across the corridor.

The grand foyer was total chaos.

Distinguished board members and politicians were cowering on the floor, hands locked behind their heads, as heavily armed operatives in full dark tactical gear moved through the room with terrifying efficiency. Red laser sights crisscrossed the smoky air.

"Clear left!" a voice barked through a radio comm.

"Clear right! Move to the west wing!"

At the front of the assault stack was a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a heavy tactical vest marked FBI TASK FORCE. He moved with practiced, lethal precision, his rifle raised, sweeping the room.

"Marcus!" I screamed, my voice cracking through the smoke and noise.

The leader spun instantly. The tactical light mounted on his rifle locked onto me.

"Sarah!" Marcus shouted, dropping his weapon to its sling and sprinting down the hallway toward me.

He reached me in three strides, pulling me into a massive, protective arm while keeping his body positioned between me and the study door. His dark eyes scanned my bruised jaw, the blood on my dress, and the deep cut near my cheekbone.

His jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. The air around him suddenly felt lethal.

"Who did this to your face?" Marcus asked, his voice dropping into a flat, terrifying whisper.

"Vance," I gasped, holding onto his vest. "His father has a gun in the study. Harrison and the board are inside."

Marcus slammed a button on his shoulder comm. "Team Two, breach the private study! Suspect is armed! Non-lethal force authorized, but neutralize on sight!"

"Copy that, Commander!" three tactical operatives shouted, moving past us with heavy breaching shields.

Inside the study, Arthur yelled out, "Stay back! I have rights! This is private property!"

BANG!

A tear-gas canister ricocheted off the study wall. Seconds later, heavy thuds and frantic screaming echoed from inside as the federal breachers slammed Arthur Vance and Chairman Harrison onto the hardwood floor.

Marcus looked down at me, pulling a thermal blanket from his pack and wrapping it around my cold shoulders.

"It's over, Sarah," Marcus whispered softly. "You're safe."

"Not yet," I said, looking toward the dark stairs leading back up to the master bedroom. "There's something under the bathtub. And there's a safe in Arthur's closet. Everything—the offshore accounts, the bribe ledgers, the blackmail files—it's all in there."