Chapter 6 - The Unraveling
The foyer smelled of cordite, shattered oak, and ozone.
Pinned under the heavy combat boot of a tactical operator, Alistair panted against the cold marble floor. His face was scraped, his tailor-made shirt soaked in cold sweat. "You can't do this!" he choked out, looking frantically between the five men standing in his hallway. "This is a home invasion! I'm a high-profile tech CEO! Who the hell do you think you are?!"
Ethan Pembroke didn't bother answering. He didn't even look down at Alistair. He slowly climbed the grand curved staircase, his four brothers following in silent, synchronized steps.
I stepped out from the shadows of the upper landing, wrapping my sweater tighter around myself.
"Ethan," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly as I looked at my eldest brother for the first time in nine years. He looked older, his temples silvered, but his posture carried the same terrifying authority he held when we were children.
Ethan stopped two steps below me. His icy gray eyes softened just a fraction as he looked at my face, scanning for injuries. When he saw none, his gaze shifted toward the bedroom door behind me.
"Is she alive, Victoria?" Ethan asked, his voice low and raspy.
"She's sleeping," I replied softly. "I treated the welts. But she's traumatized."
Behind Ethan, my second brother, General Marcus Pembroke, stepped forward. His four-star uniform was crisp despite the night deployment, his jaw set like iron. He didn't say a word to me; he simply turned to his radio and spoke a single command: "Team Alpha, secure the child. Prepare medical transport for atmospheric medevac to the private terminal."
Down below, Genevieve tried to crawl toward the shattered front entrance, sobbing hysterically. "It wasn't me! It was him! He hit her! I tried to stop him!"
My third brother, Julian—the brother whose name made international cartel leaders speak in hushed tones—turned his head toward her. He didn't raise his voice. He merely raised two fingers.
Two operatives pulled Genevieve up by her arms.
"Check her phone, check her accounts, and trace her family line," Julian commanded softly to his chief enforcer. "I want every asset she has ever touched seized by dawn. If she owns a square inch of dirt anywhere on this continent, take it."
"No! Please!" Genevieve shrieked as she was dragged out into the rain toward an idling armored transport.
Alistair watched in utter disbelief as his mistress was removed like trash. He tried to twist around to look at me. "Victoria! What is this?! Tell these thugs to back off! Who are these people?!"
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Gabriel, my judge brother, pulled a thick leather folder from under his arm and tossed it onto the marble floor directly in front of Alistair's face.
"Those are warrants for federal wire fraud, systemic embezzlement, domestic abuse, and child endangerment," Gabriel said coldly, adjusting his gold cufflinks. "Signed by the Chief Judge of the Ninth Circuit court forty-five minutes ago. Your corporate servers are seized. Your bank accounts are frozen. You no longer own this house, Alistair. In fact, as of six minutes ago, you don't even own the watch on your wrist."
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