Before the smoke could dissipate, Vincent moved with lethal precision.
He stepped out into the pouring rain, his customized sidearm barking twice through the haze.
Two distinct thuds echoed over the whine of the jet engines as the nearest mercenaries collapsed onto the pavement.
Vincent didn’t pause; he sprinted forward through the mist, closing the distance before the remaining guards could re-acquire their target.
A third guard stepped out from behind the boarding stairs, his rifle raised.
Vincent grabbed the barrel of the weapon, wrenching it violently downward while driving a brutal palm strike straight into the man’s sternum.
The contractor gasped, dropping like a stone as Vincent swept his leg and struck him with the butt of the sidearm.
From inside the jet cabin, the lead operative heard the gunfire and the chaos outside.
Cursing violently, he unholstered his weapon and moved toward the elderly woman sitting in the passenger seat.
“Get up, old woman,” he hissed, grabbing her frail arm.
“You’re coming with me.”
“Take your hands off her,” a voice rang out from the doorway of the aircraft.
The contractor spun around, bringing his gun up, but Vincent was already inside.
A single shot echoed through the cabin.
The operative’s weapon spun from his shattered fingers, and a follow-up blow from Vincent’s elbow sent the man crashing into the bulkhead, knocking him out cold.
The elderly woman gasped, clutching her rosary to her chest.
She looked up with wide, tearful eyes.
“Mrs.
Hayes,” Vincent said softly, his harsh expression instantly softening into genuine deference.
He lowered his weapon and stepped forward, extending a hand to support her.
“You are safe now.
Emma is right outside.”
“Vincent…?”
Mrs.
Hayes whispered, recognizing the sharp, noble bone structure of the man standing before her.
“You look so much like your father.”
Outside, hearing the silence replace the gunfire, Emma could no longer stay behind.
She flung open the door of the truck and sprinted across the rain-drenched tarmac, bounding up the stairs of the jet.
“Grandma!”
Emma sobbed, throwing her arms around the elderly woman’s shoulders.
“Emma, my sweet child,” Mrs.
Hayes wept, hugging her granddaughter tightly.
“I knew you would come.
I knew you would.”
Vincent stood at the entrance of the cabin, scanning the horizon.
But just as the relief began to settle in Emma’s chest, the phone in the unconscious lead contractor’s pocket buzzed loudly.
Vincent retrieved the phone and answered it, pressing the speakerphone.
Chapter 46 – The Senator’s Web
Vincent looked out through the cabin window toward the distant VIP lounge monitors visible through the glass terminal walls.
Across every major broadcast network, breaking news banners flashed in glaring red letters:
BILLIONAIRE VINCENT MORETTI DECLARED FUGITIVE IN MULTI-STATE TREASON AND RACKETEERING PROBE.
DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE FREEZES MORETTI ENTERPRISES ASSETS NATIONWIDE.
CHICAGO HEADQUARTERS RAIDED FOLLOWING ALLEGATIONS OF CORRUPTION AND FOREIGN INTERFERENCE.
Marcus Vance laughed through the phone, a dry, cold sound that echoed with political triumph.
“You won the tarmac, Vincent,” Vance sneered.
“Congratulations.
You saved a dying old woman.
But while you were playing commando at O’Hare, the Attorney General signed an emergency seizure order.
Every bank account, every offshore trust, every corporate building under your name is frozen.
Your private jet licenses are revoked.
The National Guard has been authorized to assist federal marshals in your apprehension.”
Emma stared at the screen through the window, horror washing over her.
“They… they froze everything?
They’re calling you a traitor?”
“You played by the old rules, Vincent,” Vance continued smoothly.
“Your father thought he was untouchable because he had money.
But money means nothing compared to the power of the State.
By nightfall, you will have no resources, no allies, and nowhere to run.
Bring the girl and the old woman to my private estate in Lake Forest.
Surrender the documents, and perhaps I will let you serve your life sentence in a medium-security facility.”
Vincent’s jaw set like iron.
He didn’t raise his voice; instead, his tone dropped to an icy whisper that sent a chill through the line.
“You made a fatal mistake, Marcus.”
“Oh?
And what would that be?”
Vance scoffed.
“You assumed my power came from my money,” Vincent said evenly.
“My father built this empire with steel, blood, and loyal men who would die before they bow to a corrupt senator.
You have the courts.
You have the television cameras.
But I have the truth.
And before this week is over, you will beg for the safety of a federal cell.”
Vincent crushed the burner phone beneath the heel of his boot, grinding the circuit board to dust.
“Vincent…”
Emma asked, her eyes wide with worry.
“Where do we go?
The whole country is looking for you.”
Vincent turned to her grandmother, his gaze respectful yet penetrating.
“Mrs.
Hayes.
