Chapter 19
The aftermath of the violent struggle left the clearing eerily silent, save for the ragged, heavy breathing of the two men. Everett kept the heavy revolver leveled directly at the surrendered mercenary's chest while Sloane cautiously pushed the cabin door open. She stepped out into the freezing night, holding a length of heavy, braided nylon rope she had scavenged from the ranger station's dusty supply closet.
"Tie him up. Tight," Everett commanded, his voice raw and completely devoid of mercy.
Sloane efficiently bound the mercenary’s wrists and ankles, securing him tightly to one of the sturdy wooden support pillars of the cabin’s porch. Once the mercenary was immobilized, they dragged the unconscious body of Richard Vance inside the cabin, throwing him unceremoniously onto the cold, wooden floorboards.
Maren rushed forward, throwing her arms around Everett’s neck, burying her face in his freezing, snow-covered jacket. Everett dropped the revolver onto the table and held her fiercely, kissing the top of her head.
"You saved my life," Everett whispered against her hair, his heart still hammering wildly in his chest. "That shot... you were incredible."
"I am never, ever picking up a gun again," Maren promised, shaking violently as the adrenaline finally began to drain from her system, replaced by a profound, crushing exhaustion.
A low groan emanated from the floor. Richard Vance was slowly regaining consciousness. He blinked, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floorboards, and looked up at the three people staring down at him. Even bound and beaten, the arrogant, sociopathic smirk returned to his bruised face.
"You think you have won," Vance rasped, struggling to sit up against the wall. "You think securing that hard drive makes you untouchable. You are completely delusional, Everett. The syndicate has politicians, federal judges, and media empires on its payroll. They will paint you as a paranoid, violent lunatic who murdered his own grandmother for the trust fund. You will spend the rest of your life rotting in a federal penitentiary."
"They are going to have a very hard time painting that picture," Sloane interrupted coldly, walking over and crouching down to look Vance directly in the eyes. "Because while you were freezing in the woods, I transmitted the entire unredacted ledger to the Director of Cyber Crimes at the FBI. The money trail is entirely out of your control, Richard."
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Vance’s smirk faltered instantly. His face drained of all color as a low, rhythmic thumping sound began to echo from the sky above them. The sound grew rapidly louder, vibrating the floorboards of the cabin.
Everett looked out the shattered window. Three massive, black tactical helicopters were descending rapidly through the snow clouds, their massive spotlights cutting through the dark forest, illuminating the cabin in a blinding, brilliant light. The federal cavalry had finally arrived.
