Chapter 45 The Ambush

Chapter 45 The Ambush


POV: Elizabeth

The ambulance drove for twelve minutes before stopping.

I spent every second memorizing details—the route, the turns, the rhythm of the road beneath us, the distant sounds filtering in from outside. I held Jessica’s hand, watching her frightened eyes search my face for reassurance I wasn’t entirely sure I could give.

The doctor and paramedic sat rigidly against the ambulance wall, hands raised. Through the small partition window, I could see the driver’s gun whenever he glanced back to check on us.

“It’s going to be okay,” I told Jessica quietly.

“You always say that,” she whispered.

“And I’m always right.”

She almost smiled.

The ambulance lurched to a stop. Through the rear window, I saw a massive abandoned warehouse—windows broken and dark, surrounded by empty lots and dead streetlights. The kind of place that swallowed people whole.

The driver came around and yanked the rear doors open. He was broad-shouldered, wearing the paramedic uniform like a costume. The gun in his hand was very real.

“Everyone out. Slowly.”

“She can’t walk,” I said, gesturing to Jessica. “She’s post-surgery.”

“Wheel the gurney. Move.”

We complied. The doctor and paramedic rolled Jessica down the ramp while I stayed at her side, my hand gripping her arm. The night air was cold and smelled of rust and river water.

Inside, harsh work lights illuminated the center of the warehouse. Four armed men stood at strategic points—organized, disciplined, professional.

This wasn’t improvised.

Helen had planned this.

We waited eight minutes.

Then headlights swept across the entrance. A black limousine rolled inside with quiet authority. The driver stepped out and opened the rear door.

Helen Morrison emerged as though she were arriving at a gala—navy silk dress, pearls at her throat, immaculate as ever. She surveyed the scene with calm satisfaction.

“Elizabeth,” she said lightly. “And Jessica. You’re looking remarkably alive for someone who’s been unconscious for eleven days.”

“Disappointed?” I asked.

“Mildly.” She approached slowly. “But it actually works better this way. I need you both conscious for this next part.”

Patricia Chambers stepped out behind her, eyes lowered, avoiding mine.

“Here’s how this works,” Helen continued, stopping a few feet away. “When Royce arrives—and he will, because he’s tracking your phone, Elizabeth—he’ll find his girlfriend and her sister at gunpoint. At that point, he’ll sign the transfer documents for Sterling Corp without negotiation.”

“And then what?” I asked.

“And then you all have a very unfortunate accident.” Her tone was conversational. “A fire, perhaps. Or carbon monoxide. These warehouses are terribly unsafe. The tragedy of three lives lost during a medical transfer gone wrong.” She tilted her head. “I’ll personally send flowers.”

Jessica’s hand tightened in mine. “She’s insane,” she breathed.

“Completely,” I agreed, loud enough for Helen to hear.

Helen’s expression didn’t flicker. “Royce will be devastated. Losing you will break him. And a broken Royce Sterling working under my supervision is far more satisfying than a dead one.” She smiled faintly. “Some punishments are better than death.”

“You’re not going to get away with this.”

“I’ve gotten away with considerably worse.” She turned to her men. “When Sterling arrives, let him through. Then seal the exits.”

The waiting was unbearable.

Jessica was deteriorating. The stress and cold were working against her fragile recovery. Her heart monitor beeped unevenly. The doctor watched her vitals anxiously but couldn’t intervene without proper equipment.

I kept talking—about anything, everything—keeping her focused on my voice. Refusing to let fear take hold.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Twenty.

Then Helen’s phone rang.

She answered, listened, and frowned. “What do you mean you lost him? How—”

A gunshot shattered the warehouse window directly above her head.

Everyone dropped.

Helen dove behind a steel column. Patricia scrambled after her. The armed men swung their weapons upward, scanning the broken windows.

Three more shots rang out—precise, controlled. Two of Helen’s men went down, clutching their legs. Non-fatal. Deliberate.

“Federal agents! Drop your weapons!”

The command echoed from multiple directions.

Doors burst open on both sides of the warehouse. Marcus led the left team, dressed in tactical gear, moving with military precision I’d never seen from him before. Jade Chen led the right, her face set with lethal focus.

A dozen armed professionals flooded the space.

Helen’s remaining men made the mistake of fighting back.

The firefight lasted forty-five seconds.

I threw myself over Jessica’s gurney, shielding her completely. The doctor pressed against the wall. The paramedic crawled beneath a steel table.

Then—

“Clear left!”

“Clear right!”

“Suspects down! Area secure!”

I lifted my head cautiously.

Three of Helen’s men lay injured and disarmed. Two more had surrendered. Jade had another pinned against the wall.

“Helen?” I asked.

“She ran,” Marcus said, appearing beside me, slightly breathless. “East exit. Thirty seconds ago. I have people following.”

I turned back to Jessica.

Her monitor was alarming softly. Her face was pale, damp with sweat.

“She needs medication,” the doctor said urgently. “Stress has elevated her blood pressure dangerously. We need to move her now.”

Marcus was already on his radio. “Get the medical van inside. Now.”

Patricia stood near the limousine, visibly shaking, her composure shattered. One of Jade’s team held her firmly by the arm.

She looked at me, desperate. “I didn’t know it would go this far. I thought it was corporate espionage. Just business.”

“You helped orchestrate my sister’s attack,” I said coldly.

She flinched. “I didn’t know about that until after. I swear. When I realized what Helen was capable of, I was already in too deep.” Tears streaked her makeup. “I’ll testify. Every meeting. Every order. Every transaction. I’ll give you everything if you get me immunity.”

“That’s not my decision.”

“Then whose is it?”

Marcus stepped forward. “Talk to the federal agents outside. Tell them you’re cooperating fully. If your information is valuable, they’ll make a deal.”

Patricia nodded rapidly and allowed herself to be led away.

The medical van pulled inside. The team transferred Jessica carefully but quickly.

She reached for my hand. “Is it over?” she whispered.

“Almost,” I said. “Almost, Jess.”

Royce appeared at the warehouse entrance, running. He reached me in seconds, hands checking my face, my arms.

“Are you hurt? Where are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Jessica needs the facility, but she’s stable.” I grabbed his face. “Helen got away. But Patricia’s cooperating. We have—”

His phone rang.

He answered.

Something shifted in his expression immediately. Relief drained away, replaced layer by layer with something hollow and devastating.

He listened for thirty seconds.

“When?” A pause. “How many votes?” Another pause. “I see.”

He ended the call and stood very still.

“Royce? What happened?”

He looked at me, and the emptiness in his eyes hit harder than anything Helen had done that night.

“The board convened without me. An emergency session.” His voice was flat. “They used my absence as justification for the vote.”

“Royce…”

“I’ve been removed as CEO of Sterling Corp.” Each word was precise, controlled. “Effective immediately. I’ve been removed from the company I built. The company my grandfather started.”

Around us, the warehouse swarmed with police and federal agents. Paramedics treated the injured. Patricia gave her statement.

And Royce stood in the center of it all—surrounded by people and utterly alone.

I took his hand.

He held on like I was the last solid thing in a world coming apart.

“We’ll fight this,” I said.

But for the first time since I’d known him, Royce Sterling didn’t look like he believed it.