Chapter 8 - The Price of Treason
"Evan, down!" I screamed.
I lunged forward, throwing my entire body weight into Travis just as he pulled the trigger.
A deafening report shattered the quiet room. Glass smashed as the bullet missed Evan and struck the floor-to-ceiling panoramic window behind the desk, sending spiderweb cracks racing across the massive pane.
Travis and I crashed onto the heavy mahogany desk, sending papers, teacups, and lamps flying.
Travis cracked the butt of his pistol across my cheekbone. Pain exploded behind my eyes, blinding me with bright white light. I tasted copper in my mouth, but I didn't let go of his wrist. I clamped both hands around the gun, twisting it upward toward the ceiling.
BANG.
A second shot blew a hole through the plaster ceiling.
"Get off me!" Travis screamed, raising his knee into my ribs.
The breath exploded from my lungs, but Evan was already there. My brother grabbed the heavy brass desk lamp and brought it down with all his remaining strength across Travis’s shoulder.
Travis howled in pain, dropping the pistol onto the rug.
I kicked the gun across the floor. It slid straight to the feet of Detective Miller, who bounded into the room with two uniformed officers behind her, weapons raised.
"Don't move! On the floor! Hands behind your head now!" Miller barked.
Travis collapsed onto his knees, clutching his fractured shoulder, panting and bleeding onto the rug.
I scrambled up, pulling Evan back away from the struggle. We stood shoulder to shoulder, gasping for air, our twin reflections caught in the cracked glass behind the desk.
The officers slammed Travis to the ground, pulling his arms behind his back and clicking the steel handcuffs into place.
Through it all, Eleanor Vane had not moved an inch.
She stood behind the desk, her white blouse immaculate, watching the police handcuff her nephew with an expression of mild annoyance, as if a waiter had brought her the wrong wine.
"Eleanor Vane," Detective Miller said, stepping toward her with her handcuffs drawn. "You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, obstruction of justice, and insurance fraud."
Mother didn't look at Miller. She looked straight at me, her gray eyes freezing cold.
"You always were the disappointment, Liam," she said softly. "Evan had the talent. You just had the sentiment. You think you've won something today? Look at you. You've destroyed your own family name."
"You destroyed this family six years ago, Mom," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through my veins. "We're just finally cleaning up the mess."
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Miller pulled my mother’s arms behind her back. For the first time in her life, Eleanor Vane had steel bracelets snapped around her wrists.
As they led her out of the room, she passed the fallen photograph of our father that had sat on the desk for two decades. She didn't look at it once.
