"I am not surrendering," I rasp, my voice a demonic, uncompromising vow. I lean my head back against the cold marble, completely entirely accepting the reality of my fate. I have run out of moves. The chessboard is completely broken. But I will absolutely not let them put me in chains.
"Thorne! I am giving you five seconds before we deploy tear gas and breach the island!" Agent Vance roars, his boots crunching on the broken stone as he steps closer through the smoke.
"Sybil," I murmur, my pale eyes locking entirely onto hers. "When they breach... you drop the gun. You raise your hands. You let him take you. You let him think you were a hostage. Do you understand me?"
"No," she gasps, violently shaking her head, tears cutting clean paths through the dust and blood on her face. "No, Thayer, we go together. You promised me. Together."
"I am not letting you go to a federal prison," I snarl, my right hand shooting out to grip her jaw, completely forcing her to look at me. "You are my wife. You are the Queen of the Syndicate. You will walk out of this house, you will use the offshore accounts, and you will live, Sybil. That is a direct order."
"I don't take orders from you anymore," she whispers, a dark, fierce, entirely unhinged fire completely consuming her midnight-blue eyes.
She violently jerks her face out of my grip.
Before I can stop her, before my sluggish, dying muscles can react, Sybil stands up from behind the marble island.
"Sybil! Get down!" I roar, a sound of absolute, paralyzing terror entirely ripping from my chest.
She steps out from behind the cover, completely exposing herself to the room.
The red strobes illuminate the smoke-filled living room. Six heavily armored federal agents have their assault rifles raised, the laser sights instantly painting her dark sweater with a dozen red dots.
Standing in the center of the formation is a tall, broad-shouldered man with dirty blond hair and sharp, aristocratic features that terrifyingly mirror Arthur Vance.
Agent Hayes Vance completely freezes. He lowers his rifle a fraction of an inch, his eyes widening as he finally looks upon the sister he was taught was a fragile, broken ghost.
"Sybil," Hayes breathes, stepping forward, his left hand reaching out. "It's me. It's Hayes. Put the gun down, sweetheart. You're safe."
Sybil doesn't drop the gun.
She raises the heavy, suppressed 9mm Glock, completely locking her elbows, and aims the barrel directly at the center of her brother's chest.
The silence in the room is catastrophic. The federal agents instantly tense, their fingers tightening on their triggers. They are trained to neutralize any armed threat, regardless of identity. She is a millisecond away from being entirely torn to pieces.
"He didn't kidnap me," Sybil states, her voice completely steady, entirely devoid of the trembling fear that defined her entire life. It rings out clear and lethal over the smoking ruins of the villa. "I am his wife. And if you take one more step toward him, Hayes, I will put a bullet directly through your heart."
Hayes’s face contorts in pure, unadulterated shock and horror. The cognitive dissonance completely breaks him. He looks at her dark, empty eyes, the absolute lack of hesitation in her posture, and realizes the terrifying truth.
The victim is completely gone. She is a Thorne.
"She's indoctrinated!" Hayes screams to his men, his voice completely cracking. "Hold fire! Do not shoot her!"
But the men are tense. The laser sights tremble on her chest. A single twitch, a single misinterpreted movement, and they will execute her.
A violent, absolute clarity completely washes over my fading mind.
I cannot let her die. I brought her into the darkness. I completely corrupted her soul, I burned her world to the ground, and I made her mine. But I will not let her pay the ultimate price for my sins.
I force my massive, broken body off the floor. The pain is entirely gone, completely overridden by the absolute, psychotic desperation of my obsession.
I drop the empty assault rifle.
I lunge upward, my massive right arm wrapping entirely around Sybil’s waist.
"Target is moving! Fire!" an agent screams.
I violently hurl my body backward, completely dragging Sybil with me as the deafening roar of automatic gunfire erupts once again.
I throw us behind the absolute edge of the marble island just as the bullets completely shred the space where she was standing seconds prior. I hit the floor hard, shielding her entirely with my massive frame, completely absorbing a heavy, burning impact in my right thigh.
