Chapter 6 - The Face-to-Face
The bedroom door swung wide, crashing against the drywall.
There stood Ethan—soaked from the storm, gasping for air, his dark hair plastered across his forehead. He froze in the doorway, his eyes darting frantically across the room until they landed on Claire huddled on the floor, and then shifted to the man holding a gun three feet away from her.
For three unbearable seconds, nobody moved.
It was like staring into a twisted, distorted mirror. Two men, identical in height, build, and facial structure, stood beneath the dim bathroom light. But while Ethan’s face writhed with raw panic and desperate love, Julian’s expression was an icy mask of bitter contempt.
“Julian,” Ethan choked out, his voice dropping into a register of horror that Claire had never heard before. “Put the gun down.”
“Look at you,” Julian sneered, holding the weapon steady on Ethan’s chest. “The family man. The suburban dad with the quiet life, the sweet wife, the nice house. Built on the back of my grave.”
“I didn't bury you, Julian!” Ethan took a slow, cautious step forward, raising his hands palms-out. “I searched for you for three years after Maine! I thought you drowned! When the federal agents came to me and told me you were dead, I believed them!”
“They didn't kill me, brother!” Julian roared, his composure cracking, revealing the wild, unhinged fury beneath. “They locked me in a concrete box in Eastern Europe! They took ten years of my life while you took my name, my trust fund, and built this pathetic, cozy lie!”
“I didn’t take anything!” Ethan yelled back, his eyes brimming with tears. “I took the drive from your former handlers six months ago because I found out you were still alive! I was trying to buy your freedom from the syndicate!”
Julian paused, a flicker of doubt crossing his eyes. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not!” Ethan reached slowly into his wet coat pocket. Julian instantly thumbed the hammer of the gun. “Easy, easy! It’s just the flash drive! It’s right here!”
From his pocket, Ethan pulled out a sleek, titanium-encased USB drive. “Everything is on here, Julian. The names of the shadow contractors, the black site locations, the offshore accounts. I was going to turn it over to the Justice Department tonight to get you immunity!”
Claire, wiping blood from the corner of her lips, watched the exchange from the floor. She saw Julian’s fingers tighten on the grip. He didn't want justice. He didn't want immunity.
He wanted revenge.
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“Too late, Ethan,” Julian whispered. “You don’t get to play the savior now.”
Julian shifted his aim toward Ethan's chest—and in that fraction of a second, Claire acted. She reached out, grabbed the cord of the tall metal floor lamp beside the bed, and yanked it with all her strength.
