Chapter 6 - The Gathering of the Wolves
By 6:30 AM, the old Miller farm looked like a military outpost.
Three black SUVs were parked in a semicircle around the collapsed silo, their engines idling with a low, threatening rumble that cut through the morning fog. Six men in dark security uniforms stood by the main doors of the barn, their hands resting on their holstered weapons.
Lily watched from the top of the concrete silo, where she had climbed via the rusted iron ladder on the back side. Her right foot was wrapped in a piece of old burlap she had found near the tracks, her toes blue from the cold, but she didn't feel it. Her eyes were fixed on the barn doors.
A silver luxury sedan pulled up to the gate, its tires crushing the weeds.
A man stepped out of the back seat. He looked remarkably like Lawrence—the same sharp features, the same gray hair—but his eyes were dark, small, and restless. He wore a flawless navy suit and carried a black leather briefcase.
It was Arthur Vance.
“Is he inside?” Arthur asked, his voice carrying clearly through the crisp morning air.
“The tracks show he dragged himself into the western corner, sir,” the security chief replied, tipping his hat. “The bleeding was heavy. He wouldn't have survived the night without a medic, and we verified no emergency calls were registered from this sector.”
Arthur nodded, a cold, satisfied look settling over his face. “Good. Check his pockets for the key. The board meeting in Columbus starts at nine. I want the engineering files cleared before the opening bell.”
He walked toward the barn doors, his polished shoes stepping carefully over the mud.
Lily knew she had only seconds. If Arthur went inside and found Lawrence alive, the handkerchief wouldn't matter anymore. The wolves would finish the job they started in the ditch.
She slid down the rusted ladder of the silo, her hands burning from the friction, and ran toward the back of the barn where the fallen maple tree had smashed through the roof. The gap was high—six feet off the ground—but the branches of the maple created a natural staircase.
She scrambled up the bark, her bare foot slipping on the wet leaves, and dropped through the broken rafters into the hayloft inside.
The interior of the barn was dim, filled with the gray light of the dawn. Below her, in the western corner, Lawrence was still slumped against the beam. His eyes were closed, his head tilted forward, his breathing so faint it was invisible. The blue handkerchief was a dark, dry knot against his chest.
“Lawrence!” Lily whispered, leaning over the edge of the loft floor.
The man’s head moved slightly. His stormy gray eyes cracked open, looking up toward the rafters. A faint, broken smile touched his lips.
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“Lily...” he raspy whispered. “You... you came back.”
“I got it,” she said, pulling the heavy metallic flash drive from her jacket. “I got the drive. But your brother is outside. He’s coming through the door right now.”
