Chapter 11 - Taken
Through the floorboards, Lyra watched as Silas’s men tore the cabin apart.
They smashed the furniture, threw the books from the shelves, and shattered the framed photograph of her family.
She squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath, clutching the ledger tightly to her chest in the darkness.
Then, a hand reached down through the gap in the floorboards.
A rough hand grabbed her collar and hauled her out into the light.
She was tossed onto the floor next to Gregory, who was bleeding from a deep gash on his forehead.
Silas stood over her, a bloody bandage on his cheek where Gregory’s wrench had struck him.
He looked down at her, his eyes wild with a mixture of anger and greed.
“You’re a slippery little thing, aren't you?” Silas sneered, spotting the ledger in her arms.
He kicked it out of her hands, picking it up with a triumphant laugh.
“Finally,” Silas breathed, stroking the leather cover. “The keys to the kingdom.”
He looked down at Gregory, who was stirring, groaning in pain.
“Kill the old man,” Silas ordered his men casually. “And bring the girl. We need her to show us how to open the vault.”
“No!” Lyra screamed, throwing herself over Gregory’s body.
“Don't worry, kid,” Silas laughed, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her away. “You’ll be joining him soon enough.”
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As they dragged her out, one of Silas's men raised a pistol, aiming it at the unconscious Gregory.
But a sudden whistle from the dark woods made the gunman freeze.
