Chapter 15: The Final Thread
Chapter 15: The Final Thread
Instead of the soft velvet of the diamond pouch, Regina's fingers brushed against something stiff. Frowning, she pulled it out.
It was a piece of scarlet silk.
Her heart stopped. It was a fragment of the $68,000 gown, the exact piece that had caught on the lighting stand. Pinned to the silk was a small, heavy piece of metal.
Regina stared at it, the color draining from her face as the cabin pressure seemed to crush her lungs. It wasn't just a pin. It was a live GPS micro-tracker, pulsing with a faint, rhythmic red LED light.
Wrapped around the tracker was a small, handwritten note in elegant script:
> You didn't really think we'd let you leave the runway, did you? The cartel says hello.
Regina scrambled to the window. In the pitch-black sky just beyond the Cessna's right wing, a massive, unlit tactical helicopter was keeping pace, its side door sliding open to reveal the silhouette of a sniper rifle.
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The pilot’s radio crackled to life with a burst of static, followed by a voice that wasn't air traffic control.
Regina closed her eyes as the red light on the tracker blinked one final time.
