Chapter 3 - The Runway TrapThe wind howled across the tarmac of the private airfield thirty miles outside the city. Heavy storm clouds churned overhead, matching the turbulent mood inside the sleek black SUV parked near the hangar.
David sat in the passenger seat, his knuckles white as he gripped the dashboard. In the back, two federal marshals and Victoria’s lead security consultant went over the tactical sweep.
"Target has arrived," the lead agent murmured into his radio, nodding toward a silver sedan speeding toward a chartered twin-engine jet idling near the runway lights.
Through the pouring rain, David watched as the car door swung open and Chloe stepped out, clutching a leather briefcase to her chest, her hair whipping wildly in the gale. She was dressed in a dark trench coat, her expression frantic as she rushed toward the aircraft stairs.
"Now," Victoria commanded from her seat.
The SUV doors flew open. Floodlights from two unmarked security vehicles suddenly blazed to life, pinning the jet and the runway in a blinding white glare. Sirens wailed into the stormy night air.
"Chloe Adams! Federal marshals! Drop your bag and put your hands where we can see them!" the lead agent’s amplified voice boomed across the tarmac.
Chloe froze, turning around wildly as agents converged from all directions. For a split second, her eyes locked onto David, who had stepped out of the SUV and was walking steadily toward her through the rain.
"David!" Chloe shrieked, panic distorting her features. "Don't let them do this! We can leave together! I know where the rest of the offshore assets are!"
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"You took everything from me," David said, his voice cutting through the wind with chilling calm as he stopped a few feet away. "You took my wife, you manipulated my life, and you laid a hand on my daughter. There is nowhere left for you to run."
As the marshals rushed forward, tackling Chloe to the wet pavement and clicking the steel cuffs onto her wrists, the heavy briefcase popped open. Hundreds of documents, flash drives, and bearer bonds fluttered into the air, swirling in the wind like autumn leaves—tangible proof of her crimes scattered across the dark runway.
