Chapter 9 - The Final Trap
Despite Miranda's arrest, one loose end remained dangerous. Bryce Holland had been granted temporary medical bail due to his fractured sternum, staying under house arrest at his penthouse in Midtown Manhattan while awaiting trial.
Late on a rainy Thursday night, Everett sat in his home study, reviewing financial documents with Harold. Suddenly, Everett's phone buzzed with an alert from the estate's private security system.
A silent alarm had been tripped at the perimeter gate near the service entrance.
"Stay here, Harold," Everett instructed, pulling a sleek black flashlight and a heavy tactical baton from his desk drawer.
Everett navigated through the darkened hallways of the mansion, moving silently toward the ground-floor patio doors. Through the rain-streaked glass, he saw a dark figure clad in a black raincoat forcing open the lock on the side door leading toward the nursery wing.
Everett didn't scream or give a warning. He opened the adjacent hallway door, stepping directly into the intruder's path.
The intruder whirled around, pulling a long hunting knife from his coat pocket. The beam of Everett's flashlight caught the man's face—it was Bryce Holland, his eyes bloodshot, his face pale and desperate.
"You ruined me, Vance!" Bryce hissed, his voice trembling with psychotic rage. "My accounts are frozen! My reputation is gone! I'm going to prison for fifteen years because of you and that little brat!"
"You came into my home armed, Bryce," Everett said smoothly, his posture completely calm as he clicked off the flashlight, letting the darkness envelope the hallway. "That was the last mistake you'll ever make."
Bryce lunged forward with the knife, slashing wildly through the dark. But Everett had years of tactical training. He stepped swiftly to the left, dodged the blade, and brought the heavy baton down onto Bryce's injured chest with devastating precision.
CRACK!
Bryce let out a wet gasp of agony as his fractured sternum re-injured. He dropped the knife, falling to his knees on the wooden floorboards. Before he could react, Everett slammed his heel against Bryce's wrist, pinning him flat to the floor, and pressed his knee heavy into Bryce's back.
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The lights in the hallway swung on. Harold rushed in with three armed estate guards, who immediately took control of the intruder.
"Call Detective Miller," Everett ordered calmly, wiping a drop of rain from his jacket. "Tell him Mr. Holland just revoked his own bail."
