Uncle David smiled—a real, wide, magnificent smile that held zero debts, zero lies, zero grief, and zero graves:
“Arthur’s line holds true, Annie. Amelia drew the line.”
Before Captain Garrett Stone could secure the chancel railing…
From the center of the communion table, an encrypted satellite tactical terminal mounted inside Marcus Cooper’s leather dispatch case began to chime with an urgent, high-gain acoustic alarm:
Advertisement
*BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.*
Cooper flipped the receiver, his voice snapping into immediate tactical alert:
“Admiral Mercer! Chancellor Mercer! Flash priority intercept from the perimeter detail at the Blackwood Ridge estate!”
Cooper turned the terminal screen toward where we stood:
**“Former Chief Justice Arthur Sterling-Vance’s private demolition convoy has just breached the security gates of the lower river bluffs—and his contractors have brought heavy pneumatic core drills to sever the physical manifold of Valve Station Ten before midnight!”**
The digital countdown above the tactical console flashed in bright, unblinking crimson: `00:44:12`.
May you like
Chapter 5: My Pregnant Wife Gave Me Everything in Our Divorce, Until Our Six-Year-Old Son Walked Into Court u6368
Chapter 4: My Pregnant Wife Gave Me Everything in Our Divorce, Until Our Six-Year-Old Son Walked Into Court i6368
Chapter 3: My Pregnant Wife Gave Me Everything in Our Divorce, Until Our Six-Year-Old Son Walked Into Court y6368
Forty-four minutes until the statutory seventy-year spendthrift restriction on Parcel Ten expired at midnight Eastern Standard Time.
Vice Admiral David Mercer did not waste half a second.
The seventy-four-year-old four-star Admiral turned on his hand-welted leather bridge shoes with that clean, concussive *CRACK* against the limestone:
*CRACK.*
“Cooper! Grant!” Admiral Mercer barked, his voice sixty decibels of mountain quarry explosive that filled the entire chapel:
“Execute Directive Archangel-Ten! Deploy Task Force Caduceus! Clear the airspace between Middleburg and Great Falls under Title Fifty War Powers! No civilian air traffic within twenty nautical miles!”
Advertisement
Admiral Mercer looked at Amelia and me, his flint-gray eyes hardening into cold, unyielding iron:
“Captain Stone, secure Amelia in the armored command salon. Annie… into the command BearCat. We have nine minutes before his drilling rigs reach the cryogenic pressure seals beneath your garden.”
I didn’t pause to look at the discarded wedding cake.
I didn’t pause to look at my mother weeping in the front pew.
I kissed Amelia’s forehead, held her small hand securely in mine, and leaped into the command BearCat, my hand-welted leather field boots crushing the gravel into powder with that unhurried, rhythmic, concussive *TACK*:
Advertisement
*TACK.*
*TACK.*
*TACK.*
Behind us, Barnaby vaulted through the rear doors of our command vehicle, his amber eyes reflecting the tactical status screens, his low, guttural growl vibrating in his chest as the heavy steel doors slammed shut with an airtight, pneumatic THUD.
***
