But Corbin wasn't alone. The door to the store burst open, and two more men in tactical gear entered, their weapons held at a ready, low angle. They had followed them. They had known they would come here.
They were surrounded.
Liam met Elara's eyes. It was a look of apology, of resignation, and of a fierce, final love that needed no words. They were out of options. Out of time.
He stepped out of the back office, putting himself between Corbin's men and Elara.
"It's over, Corbin," Liam said, his voice echoing in the quiet store.
Robert Corbin turned, his smile widening. "Liam Holt. The last guardian of a dead man's secret." He gestured with his chin."And you must be the writer. Elara Vance. I've enjoyed your books. Pity you won't be finishing the one you're in."
One of the armed men stepped forward, raising his weapon.
This was it. The hilltop holiday, the mystery, the running—it all ended here, in a dusty general store at the edge of the wilderness.
But as the man took aim, a new sound cut through the tension—the distinct, electronic squawk of a police radio, followed by the crunch of tires on gravel outside. Not one car. Several.
Corbin's smile vanished. He shot a furious look at his men. "You said the sheriff was handled!"
Through the store's front window, Elara saw two state police cruisers and an unmarked car skid to a halt, officers spilling out, taking up positions behind their doors.
The back door of the store burst open. A woman in a crisp FBI windbreaker stood there, her service weapon drawn. "Robert Corbin! FBI! You are under arrest! Everyone, drop your weapons!"
In the chaos, Liam pulled Elara close. "My contact in Burlington," he whispered in her ear. "She didn't just work for a newspaper."
As Corbin and his men were subdued, the FBI agent approached them. She nodded at Liam, then turned to Elara. "Ms. Vance? Special Agent Miller. We received a very detailed tip about conspiracy, attempted murder, and a century-old theft. We'll need that box as evidence."
Numbly, Elara handed over the bag. The weight was gone, but the memory of its burden would remain forever.
Outside, in the blinding light of the winter sun reflecting off the snow, Elara watched as Robert Corbin was read his rights and placed in a squad car. The nightmare was over.
Liam stood beside her, his face turned up to the sky, as if breathing free air for the first time.
"It's finished," he said.
Elara looked at him, at the man who had fought for her, protected her, and shared his darkest truth with her. The suspense was over. But as he took her hand, his fingers lacing through hers, she knew their story was just beginning.
Chapter 10:
The Unraveling
The fluorescent lights of the FBI field office in Burlington hummed a sterile, impersonal song. Elara sat wrapped in a coarse grey blanket, a cup of lukewarm coffee untouched on the table in front of her. Liam was in a separate room, giving his statement. The adrenaline had drained away, leaving her hollowed out and shivering despite the warmth.
Special Agent Miller had been patient, her questions precise. Elara had told her everything—the locked gate, the journal, the hidden compartment, the ambush on the ridge. She’d handed over the digital recorder she always carried in her pocket, a writer’s habit that had captured Corbin’s chilling confession in the general store.
“The metal box is a goldmine,” Miller said, returning to the interview room. She didn’t smile.“Pun intended. The original land deeds, the falsified surveys, Corbin’s correspondence with the so-called‘security’team authorizing‘any means necessary’to acquire the property… it’s all here. We’ve already frozen Blackwood’s assets and are making arrests at the county level.”
She looked at Elara, her gaze assessing.“You two are very lucky. Corbin’s men were ex-Spetsnaz. He didn’t hire them for their subtlety.”
The word lucky felt inadequate. They had been resourceful, desperate, and, in Liam’s case, brutally effective.
“What happens to Liam?” Elara asked, her voice raspy.“His family…”
“The statute of limitations on the original theft ran out about a century ago,” Miller said.“And given his cooperation and the role his family played in exposing a modern criminal enterprise, the U.S. Attorney is inclined to be lenient. He’s a victim here, Ms. Vance, not a perpetrator.”
The door opened and Liam walked in. He looked exhausted, the shadows under his eyes like bruises, but the tension in his shoulders had eased. His gaze went straight to Elara, a silent question in his eyes. Are you okay?
She gave a small, shaky nod.
