CHAPTER 3 — THE HUNTERS BECOME THE HUNTED
CHAPTER 3 — THE HUNTERS BECOME THE HUNTED
The second gunshot echoed across the rain-soaked courtyard.
Every head turned.
Red laser sights danced across David's men.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"
For one frozen second, nobody moved.
Then chaos erupted.
David shoved one of his own bodyguards into the line of fire and sprinted toward the black SUV.
"Go! GO!" he screamed.
His men opened fire—not at the agents, but at the hotel lights.
Glass exploded overhead.
Darkness swallowed the courtyard.
Guests inside the conservatory shrieked as chandeliers crashed to the marble floor.
Sarah grabbed my arm.
"Down!"
We dove behind a stone fountain just as bullets slammed into the granite.
Water sprayed over us.
My wedding dress was soaked with rain, blood, and mud.
"This way!" an unfamiliar voice shouted.
A woman in a black tactical vest appeared through the smoke.
She flashed a badge.
"Special Agent Elena Brooks, FBI."
"I'm here for Maya Bennett."
I hesitated.
Sarah didn't.
She shoved me toward the agent.
"She's the bride."
Agent Brooks pulled us behind an armored vehicle while officers flooded the courtyard.
Within seconds, David's private security team was pinned down.
But David himself...
...was gone.
Ten minutes later.
Inside a mobile command vehicle parked behind the hotel.
I sat wrapped in a gray emergency blanket.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
An EMT cleaned the cuts on my feet while detectives photographed bruises on my wrists.
Agent Brooks placed a paper cup of coffee in front of me.
"You've been through a lot."
"I need answers," I whispered.
She exchanged a glance with another agent.
Then she slid a thick manila folder onto the table.
Across the front were three words.
OPERATION PHOENIX FALL
My heart skipped.
The golden phoenix.
The lapel pin.
David's symbol.
Brooks opened the file.
Photographs spilled across the table.
David shaking hands with politicians.
David boarding private jets.
David meeting men whose faces had been blacked out.
Stacks of cash.
Luxury yachts.
Weapons.
Fake passports.
My stomach twisted.
"No..."
Brooks nodded.
"The man you married isn't a venture capitalist."
"Who is he?"
She looked directly into my eyes.
"His real name isn't David Carter."
"It never was."
The room became painfully quiet.
Brooks turned another page.
A mugshot stared back at me.
Longer hair.
A beard.
Different glasses.
But unmistakably him.
Real Name:
Daniel Cross
International financial criminal.
Suspected money launderer.
Identity fraud.
Corporate espionage.
Witness intimidation.
Four countries seeking extradition.
My breathing stopped.
"He told me his parents lived in Boston..."
"They don't exist."
"He said he graduated from Stanford."
"Fake records."
"He said we'd met by chance."
Brooks sighed.
"You were targeted."
Sarah slowly sat beside me.
"I knew something felt wrong."
Brooks nodded.
"So did we."
I looked up.
"You were investigating him?"
"For eighteen months."
"Then why didn't you stop the wedding?"
The room fell silent again.
Finally Brooks answered.
"We couldn't."
"We didn't have enough evidence."
"What?"
"If we arrested him too early, every member of his organization would've disappeared."
I slammed my fist onto the table.
"So you let me marry him?"
"No."
"We tried warning you."
My eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean?"
Brooks reached into another folder.
She removed three sealed envelopes.
Each one had my name written across the front.
In Sarah's handwriting.
My heart pounded.
"I never got these."
"I know."
"They were intercepted."
Sarah stared in disbelief.
"I mailed every one."
Brooks nodded.
"Our surveillance later showed Daniel's people were stealing your mail."
She opened the first letter.
Inside was one sentence.
Do not marry David. I think he's dangerous.
The second letter contained screenshots of suspicious bank transfers.
The third...
made my blood run cold.
It was a photograph.
David standing beside a blonde woman and a little girl.
The girl couldn't have been older than six.
The caption underneath read:
His first family. Both disappeared three years ago.
I couldn't breathe.
"He has... a daughter?"
Brooks slowly shook her head.
"We don't know."
"We've never found either of them."
Suddenly another agent burst into the command center.
"Ma'am."
Brooks stood.
"What happened?"
"We searched the bridal suite."
"And?"
He swallowed.
"You need to see this."
Five minutes later.
I stood inside the luxury suite where I'd gotten ready that morning.
The flowers remained perfect.
My makeup sat untouched on the vanity.
The champagne glasses still sparkled.
It looked like a dream.
Until Agent Brooks pointed beneath the bed.
Technicians carefully rolled out a large black suitcase.
It wasn't luggage.
It was reinforced.
Metal-lined.
Locked from the outside.
One technician forced it open.
Everyone in the room fell silent.
Inside...
...were thick plastic restraints.
A syringe.
Sedatives.
A gag.
And a folded airline ticket.
Destination:
Belize
Departure:
11:45 PM.
Passenger:
Mrs. Maya Carter.
One-way.
There was no return flight.
Sarah burst into tears.
"Oh my God..."
Brooks looked at me grimly.
"He wasn't planning a honeymoon."
"He was planning a disappearance."
A forensic technician suddenly spoke.
"Agent..."
He held up a folded piece of paper found inside the suitcase.
Brooks unfolded it.
Her expression changed instantly.
"What is it?" I asked.
She hesitated.
Then handed me the page.
It wasn't addressed to me.
It was addressed to David.
May you like
In bold letters, it read:
PAYMENT RELEASED ONLY AFTER CONFIRMATION OF THE BRIDE'S DEATH.
