Chapter 16 - The Hunt Begins
The revelation about my parents’ accident shattered the boundaries of a simple corporate feud. This was no longer about wealth, social status, or stolen docks. This was about blood.
Within two hours, Bennett Industries’ entire legal and private security apparatus was mobilized. Federal marshals issued a nationwide alert for Sloane Mercer, suspecting she was attempting to flee the country with whatever hidden liquid assets she had managed to stash in cryptocurrency wallets.
Daniel and I sat in our private command center on the top floor of the Bennett Tower, surrounded by wall-mounted monitors displaying real-time flight trackers, financial wire taps, and satellite feeds of private airfields along the eastern seaboard.
"She’s heading for the private airstrip in Montauk," I said, pointing at a blinking red icon on the master map. "It’s the only place unregistered charter planes can still take off under the cover of the incoming nor'easter."
"My security team is already ten minutes out," Daniel said, his hand resting firmly on my shoulder. "Clara, listen to me. When we find her, you let my men handle the physical apprehension. You are a CEO, not a bounty hunter."
"I am the granddaughter of the people they murdered, Daniel," I replied, turning to look him straight in the eyes. "This ends with me."
We boarded our helicopter within minutes, lifting off from the rooftop helipad as the sky turned a bruised, menacing shade of purple. The wind battered the aircraft as we flew east over Long Island, chasing the fading light of day and the ghost of a girl who had once thought she ruled the world.
Below us, the Montauk airstrip appeared out of the darkness like a thin strip of gray concrete slashed across the barren dunes. Parked near the edge of the tarmac was a twin-engine Gulfstream jet, its engines idling, blowing exhaust against the swirling snow.
A single figure in a dark coat was sprinting across the open tarmac toward the boarding stairs, desperately clutching a heavy duffel bag against her chest.
May you like
Sloane.
Our helicopter banked sharply, descending onto the grass beside the runway kicking up a violent vortex of snow and ice. Before the landing gear had even fully settled, I pushed the cabin door open, jumped down onto the freezing concrete, and charged directly into the blinding wind.
