The heavy oak doors of the Harrington Naval Club closed with a hollow thud that echoed through the high-ceilinged ballroom. / Chapter 8 / 14

Chapter 9 - SHADOWS OF CLIFFSIDEThe Harrington Estate sat high on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, surrounded by ten-foot wrought-iron gates and high-definition security cameras every fifty yards.

Growing up inside those walls, I had always thought of it as a palace.

Tonight, looking through the rain-streaked windshield of Marcus’s dented sedan, I saw it for what it truly was: a high-security prison built to keep the world out and the truth locked inside.

"The main gate is locked," Marcus said, dousing the headlights and coasting to a stop under the cover of a dense grove of pine trees two hundred yards from the entrance. "I see two armed guards in the gatehouse."

"They're using Harrington Maritime private security," I observed, staring at the flashing red lights near the driveway. "Dad must have called in his personal detail the moment he left the club."

"How are we getting in?" Vance asked from the back seat, clutching his briefcase like a life raft. "We can't fight our way past gated security."

"There's a drainage culvert on the south cliff," I said, reaching for the suppressed pistol on the floorboards. "It runs beneath the rose garden and empties near the generator house. Dad built it thirty years ago to prevent soil erosion."

"Is it tight?" Marcus asked.

"It's narrow," I said, looking down at my torn red silk blouse and the dark blood seeping through the bandage on my arm. "And it's a hundred-foot climb up wet rock. But it's the only blind spot in his camera network."

I turned to Vance. "Stay in the car with Marcus. If I'm not back in twenty minutes with the encryption key, take the silver drive straight to the Naval Intelligence office in Norfolk. Don't wait for me."

"Caroline," Marcus grabbed my hand, his knuckles white. "You don't have to do this alone. Let me come with you."

"Your arm is shot, Marcus," I said gently, looking at his bloody sleeve. "You've done enough for Daniel. Let me finish this for my crew."

I squeezed his hand, opened the car door, and slipped out into the cold, pouring rain.

The night air was freezing, soaking through my clothes in seconds. The pain in my back had shifted from a sharp burn to a deep, dull ache, but my mind was clearer than it had been in years.

For five years, my family had defined who I was. They had told the world I was broken, fragile, weak.

Tonight, in the rain beneath my father's fortress, I was going to show them what they had actually created.

I skirted the edge of the iron fence, keeping to the shadows of the pine trees until I reached the rocky edge of the cliff. Below, the dark ocean waves crashed violently against the jagged rocks, throwing white foam fifty feet into the air.

I slid down the muddy embankment toward the narrow mouth of the concrete culvert.