The Next Billionaire

Chapter 6: Smoke and Shadows

The flashlight beam glared directly into Frank’s eyes. He squinted, heart hammering in his chest.

“Hands where I can see them,” Mr. Red Glove said, his tone calm but lethal.

Beside him, the estate’s head of security, Mr. Lenton—a man Frank had seen every day for weeks—held his gun steady, aimed squarely at Frank’s chest.

Ella stepped protectively in front of Frank. “Lenton? What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Ella,” Lenton said, jaw tight. “Orders.”

“From who?”

Mr. Red Glove answered for him. “From someone who doesn’t believe in wasting talent. Frank Sutton has what we want. We simply want him to come with us... willingly.”

Frank’s mind raced. He counted three visible men, possibly more in the shadows. The boat waiting behind them was no accident. This was a planned extraction, not an ambush.

“You don’t need her,” Frank said, stepping beside Ella. “Let her go. You want me, right?”

Mr. Red Glove nodded. “Astute, as always. But letting her go would be... unwise. Insurance matters.”

Lenton stepped forward, lowering the gun an inch. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, son. Just come.”

Frank hesitated. Ella squeezed his hand.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered.

“I shouldn’t,” she replied, “but I do.”

Frank raised his voice. “Okay. I’ll go.”

He stepped forward, drawing all eyes to him.

“Wait—” Ella started, but he gave her a subtle shake of the head.

Then—

He dropped.

With a sweeping motion, he grabbed a flare gun he had spotted moments ago near the maintenance dock and fired it straight into the air.

Blinding red light exploded above the compound.

Chaos erupted.

From the treeline, black-suited WrenTech security agents burst through the fog, shouting commands and opening fire. Mr. Red Glove cursed and ducked as bullets whizzed past.

Frank grabbed Ella’s wrist. “Run!”

They bolted toward the boat. Frank leaped in and kicked off the mooring rope as gunfire rattled across the dock.

One bullet tore through the boat’s side. Another pinged off the engine casing. He slammed the throttle forward.

The boat surged into the darkness.

Behind them, Red Glove stood calm amid the chaos, brushing off his jacket like a man simply caught in the rain.

“You’ll come to us, Mr. Sutton,” he said to the air. “You just don’t know it yet.”

---

Back at the estate, Agent Caldwell arrived at the docks seconds too late, scanning the scene with fury.

“Status?” she barked.

“Mr. Sutton and Miss Ella escaped on the skiff. Enemy force neutralized, but Red Glove evaded capture.”

Caldwell clenched her jaw.

“Pull up all feeds. I want satellite tracking on the skiff and ground-level intercepts. Frank Sutton just became the most wanted man in two hemispheres.”

---

Out on the water, Frank’s hands trembled at the wheel.

Ella was bleeding—her upper arm grazed by a bullet.

“I’m okay,” she insisted through clenched teeth.

“You’re not okay,” Frank muttered, pulling out the emergency kit and pressing gauze against the wound.

Ella winced, then exhaled. “Nice timing back there.”

“I’ve been cleaning this estate for months. I knew where the flares were. Just didn’t expect to use them to escape assassins.”

She laughed—a weak, breathy sound. “Is this what genius looks like?”

Frank looked into her eyes. “Genius is surviving one more day.”

Their moment was broken by a mechanical beep.

Frank glanced at the console—a tracking alert blinked red. The skiff was tagged.

“They're following us.”

Ella leaned forward. “We need a hideout. Fast.”

Frank checked the map screen. One location stood out—a warehouse on the far side of the industrial port, abandoned but still linked to WrenTech’s original supply chain. He had logged it during one of his early janitor routes.

“Hold on,” he said, turning sharply. “I’ve got a place.”

---

They docked fifteen minutes later, ducking under broken fencing and into the shadows of the rusting structure.

Inside, Frank locked the metal door behind them. Dust coated every surface, but the place was dry—and more importantly, off the grid.

Ella sank to the floor, groaning.

Frank tore his jacket into strips and secured her wound.

“I should have told you earlier,” he said.

“Told me what?”

“That I found something inside the T9Space code.”

Her eyes met his. “What did you find?”

“It’s not just a code. It’s an algorithm connected to WrenTech’s AI research—something called Project Valkyrie.”

Ella frowned. “My father mentioned Valkyrie once. Said it was shelved years ago.”

“It wasn’t shelved,” Frank said. “It was buried. But it’s still live. Valkyrie is watching everything… and someone wants to activate it.”

Ella blinked. “What does it do?”

Frank hesitated. “I think... it can predict decisions. Global markets. Security risks. Elections. Even war.”

A silence fell between them.

Then Frank added, “And someone is using it—to eliminate threats. That’s what happened to your dad.”

Outside the warehouse, a figure stood watching from a rooftop across the street.

She adjusted her scope and pressed a finger to her earpiece.

“Targets confirmed,” the voice said. “Frank Sutton and Ella Wrenford. Do not engage. Just watch.”

The woman lowered the rifle.

But her eyes lingered on Frank.

Not with hatred.

With recognition.

She whispered to herself, “He’s still alive.”

To be continued…