Chapter 9 - The Showdown
"We need to get you to a hospital," Sarah said, tearing her own blazer to create a better bandage. But before they could move him, the sound of crunching gravel outside froze them all. Headlights swept through the cracks in the boathouse walls. Vance’s men had tracked Miller's car. They hadn't come to arrest anyone; they had come to clean up a mess. "Get down!" Miller yelled, shoving Sarah and Leo behind a heavy metal workbench.
Gunfire erupted, shattering the thin wooden walls of the boathouse. Wood splinters flew through the air like shrapnel. Miller returned fire, his shots precise and measured, taking down one of the attackers approaching the doorway. "There are three more out there!" Miller yelled over the deafening noise. Arthur, struggling for breath, pushed a small, waterproof black box across the floor toward Miller. "Take it! Leave me! Just save my son!"
"Nobody is dying today, Arthur!" Sarah screamed back, her maternal instincts turning into pure, adrenaline-fueled rage. She grabbed a heavy, rusted flare gun from the workbench, loaded a bright red flare, and peeked over the edge. As one of the hitmen stepped into the doorway, Sarah pulled the trigger. The flare shot out with a fiery hiss, striking the man in the chest. He screamed, dropping his weapon and stumbling backward into the rain, his jacket engulfed in red smoke and sparks. Taking advantage of the chaos, Miller burst from cover, firing three rapid shots that disabled the remaining two shooters. Silence fell over the marina, broken only by the sound of rain hitting the tin roof and the groans of the wounded men outside. Miller pulled out his phone, dialing a number he trusted—his old partner at the FBI. "It's over," Miller breathed heavily. "We got the evidence. Send the cavalry."
