Chapter 8 - The Price of Loyalty
The subterranean bunker smelled of concrete and stale air.
Natalie sat on a wooden crate, holding Ava tightly against her lap, humming the steady, low vibration that had become their lifeline.
Ava’s small body was rigid, but she wasn’t sobbing.
She was regulating.
Her fingers were tapping against Natalie’s wrist.
One, two, tap the shoe.
Three, four, count the floor.
Above them, the heavy stone foundations absorbed the muffled thuds of a violent, close-quarters firefight.
Grenades.
The sharp staccato of automatic fire.
Then, silence.
Long, agonizing minutes ticked by on Natalie’s wristwatch.
Twelve minutes.
Fifteen minutes.
Eighteen minutes.
At nineteen minutes, the heavy steel vault door at the end of the bunker corridor creaked.
The electronic lock clicked three times.
Natalie reached into her tote bag, her fingers wrapping around the cold handle of the steel kitchen shear she had grabbed from the pantry earlier that week.
The vault door swung open.
A silhouette stumbled through the frame.
It was Marcus.
His tactical vest was shredded along the left shoulder, blood soaking through his dark sleeve.
He was breathing heavily, leaning against the concrete wall for support.
“Marcus!” Natalie exclaimed, lowering the shears.
“Are you hit?”
“Flesh wound,” Marcus grunted, sliding down the wall into a seated position.
“Fragment from a breaching charge.”
“Where is Damian?”
Marcus looked up, his face smeared with soot and sweat.
“He cleared the courtyard. Moretti’s lead enforcer... Vance... was waiting at the front gate with a secondary team.”
Marcus coughed, wincing in pain.
“Mr. DeLuca engaged them personally. He pushed them back to the tree line, but Moretti’s reinforcements arrived in an armored van.”
Ava looked up from Natalie’s chest, her blue eyes wide with terror.
“Daddy?”
“Your daddy is winning, sweetheart,” Natalie lied smoothly, keeping her voice steady and warm.
“He’s just cleaning up the mess outside.”
Natalie looked back at Marcus.
“Does he need backup? Are there other teams coming?”
“The local precinct has the roads blocked under the guise of a major gas leak,” Marcus spat bitterly.
“Callahan was paid off by Moretti’s legal counsel an hour ago. No sirens are coming to this estate tonight.”
Natalie felt a wave of icy clarity wash over her.
The law did not exist out here.
The courts did not exist.
The only thing standing between a seven-year-old autistic girl and complete annihilation was a handful of bleeding men and a billionaire who fought like a demon in the dark.
“Marcus, can you hold this position?” Natalie asked.
Marcus pulled a spare sidearm from his belt and racked the slide with his teeth.
“Nothing gets through this vault door while I have air in my lungs, ma'am.”
Natalie gently set Ava down on the cot, wrapping her tightly in the weighted cashmere blanket.
“Ava, listen to me very carefully,” Natalie whispered, kneeling so their eyes were level.
“I have to go help your father bring the big lights back on.”
Ava’s hands reached out, clutching Natalie’s sleeves.
“Don’t leave. It’s loud out there.”
Natalie placed the smooth wooden sphere into Ava’s small hands.
“Hold this. Roll it ten times forward, ten times back. Count the revolutions. When you reach one hundred, I will be back through that door with your daddy. Do you trust me?”
Ava looked at the smooth wood, then looked into Natalie’s eyes.
She gave a tiny, tearful nod.
“One hundred,” Ava whispered.
Natalie kissed her forehead, stood up, and looked at Marcus.
“Give me a weapon.”
Marcus blinked in surprise.
“Ms. Carter, you’re a caregiver.”
“Right now, I am the only person in this house with two working arms,” Natalie said, her voice dropping into a tone of absolute command.
Marcus hesitated for a second, then reached into his tactical holster and handed her a compact semi-automatic pistol.
“Disengage the thumb safety. Point and pull. There is no recoil compensation on this model.”
May you like
Natalie took the heavy, cold steel.
She turned and sprinted through the vault door into the dark, smoke-filled corridors of Blackwood Manor.
