Chapter 175: CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE

Vincent Calloway's shadow fell across the exit as Isabella and Christian stepped into the night air. Altitudinous and perfectly dressed in a night-blue suit, his dark eyes glinted with triumph. He leveled the gun with a casual ease born of too numerous deals sealed by a fatal pellet. Isabella's breath caught, her palpitation pounding like a war barrel against her caricatures.

"You were working with her the whole time. " Her voice quivered wrathfulness and unbelief entwining.

Vincent's lips twisted into a cruel smile. " Did you really suppose I'd pick your side over power?" He jounced toward the distant courthouse light. "Victoria promises me protection, influence — effects you can't begin to imagine."

Christian stepped between them, casket heaving. His acclimatized watercolor blazer couldn't hide the pressure on his broad shoulders. Fingertips brushing Isabella's midriff, he rumored, " Don't make a move."

But she refused to shrink. Her violin case, slung over one delicate shoulder, felt like an extension of her resoluteness. " Power erected on falsehoods and fear is concave," she said vocally, though her eyes blazed. "You don't understand what it means to make commodity real."

Vincent's gun wavered, mistrustfulness fluttering in his aspect. At that moment, Christian slipped a commodity into his fund — a slim black flash drive. Vincent noticed but didn't reply. Isabella felt the weight of unseen dossiers calling from within Christian's jacket. Substantiation she'd slightly dared stopgap for.

A auto cornucopia blazoned. Security, advised by Gabriella's frantic phone call, swamped the yard. Vincent's boo turned savage. " Enjoy your palm stage." Before he could fire, Christian seized Isabella's hand, yanking her behind a concrete pillar. A single shot chimed out, rebounding off the marble façade.

They dove for cover as Vincent retreated, gun still in hand, fading into the murk. Heart pounding, Isabella browsed around the gravestone. Victoria's slim figure slipped down, fading into the evening haze. Isabella's casket tensed — this treason cut deeper than any sabotage. Christian pressed a gentle kiss to her tabernacle. "We'll finish this," he pledged.

Above them, courthouse lights lustered like distant lights of justice yet to be won. The flash drive in Christian's fund contained the final evidence — Victoria's own handwriting on contracts that would strike her conglomerate. But first, they had to survive the fallout of this final business.

Christian surfaced from cover moments before Vincent could evaporate entirely. Rain-oiled cobblestones glistered under the courthouse lights as he approached the spot Vincent had vacated, hand put away inside his fleece.

"What are you doing?" Isabella whizzed, voice critical.

He withdrew the flash drive and held it above, the bitsy device flashing like a dagger. "You always liked power, Vincent," he called out, voice calm but carrying through the empty forecourt. "But you forgot one thing."

From the courthouse way, Vincent's retort echoed. "What's that?"

Christian's grin was colder than the night air. "I formerly took the lines."

Isabella's heart leaped as security officers poured from the grand entrance, their radios creaking. Vincent dashed back, eyes wide with fury. He yanked open his leather briefcase — empty. His curse cut through the mizzle. "You little —"

A contemporaneous flash of blue and red lights lit the yard as officers closed in on Vincent. He raised his hands, armament put away in his band. A supereminent officer barked, "Drop it now!"

Isabella stepped from behind Christian, the violin case in her hand a silent testament to her adaptability. Vincent's snicker turned brittle when he saw who stood beside Christian. "This isn't over," he wrangles.

Christian's hand tensed around Isabella's. "It's tonight."

Two officers cuffed Vincent's wrists behind his reverse. As they marched him off, Isabella felt commodity shift in the air — the first hint of palm after a long night of fear.

She opened her jacket to reveal the flash drive. "These lines — a continuance's worth of falsehoods — just came substantiation."

Thunder rolled above as Victoria's distant voice crepitated over the police radio. "You'll pay for this." Isabella changed a determined regard toward Christianity. They had turned the tables, but the true reckoning would come when the world heard every secret Victoria had tried so desperately to bury.

Moments later, Isabella and Christian contended toward the exigency exit tunneled beneath the courthouse way. Behind them, security disaccorded with Vincent's last pious gorilla. A blaring crack resolves the air — gunfire.

Christian's instinct was immediate. He threw himself over Isabella, using his body as a guard, indeed, as shards of concrete scattered around them. Isabella cried out, heart lodged in her throat, feeling Christian's warmth as he pressed her close, arms wrapped around her pulsing frame.

Victoria's furious laugh echoed from over, mingling with the gasp of enchantresses. Security swarmed the yard, her figure swallowed by the chaos. Isabella plodded to her bases, brushing fortitude from her triumphs, as Christian helped her to safety behind a marble column.

"Are you hurt?" His voice shook with adrenaline as he pressed a pulsing hand to her impertinence.

She jounced, eyes wild but bent. "I'm fine. We've got to move."

The narrow corridor leading underground glowed with exigency lights. As they ran, Christian's hand noway loosened from hers, his steady breath echoing in the lair. Behind them, the final echoes of Victoria's conglomerate worsening — shouts, gunfire, the world they fought for clustering in a top.

At the lair's mouth, Isabella looked back. Security sealed the exits, voices calling orders. But one figure slipped through a side door — a slender form cloaked in murk. Victoria, evaporating into the night, was as fugitive and dangerous as ever.

Isabella swallowed hard, gripping Christian's hand. "She's still out there," she rumored.

He jounced, determination fired in his eyes. " So are we."

Above them, the megacity lights signaled — bright, alive, the pledge of a new dawn. Together, they stepped into the flashing cameras and rushing crowds, ready for whatever final battle awaited.