He Caught His Pregnant Wife Falling From The Balcony—Then He Looked Up And Saw His Own Sister Smiling

The agony in Daniel’s skull faded beneath the sheer, blinding power of adrenaline.

Ignoring the boot pressing into his spine, Daniel swept his leg out, tripping the mercenary above him. As the guard fell, Daniel drove his elbow into the man’s throat, snatched the fallen sidearm from the guard’s holster, and fired two rounds point-blank into the second operative standing near Julian.

Julian didn't panic. With terrifying grace, he pulled a compact submachine gun from beneath his overcoat and sprayed the corridor, forcing Daniel to roll behind the shattered granite hearth. By the time Daniel peeked out, Julian had already sprinted through the storm toward the cliff trail.

Daniel threw himself down the stone steps.

The storm had unleashed its full fury. Lightning split the Pacific sky, illuminating the churning black waves crashing against the jagged rocks fifty feet below. The private wooden dock was slick with rain and fuel, creaking violently beneath the surging tide.

At the edge of the pier, right on the precipice where the ocean met the wood, Vanessa stood holding a serrated hunting knife against Emily’s throat. Emily was on her knees, soaked to the bone, her body shivering violently, but her arms were pinned by Julian, who stood directly behind her, holding the crying baby in a waterproof sling across his chest.

"Stop right there, little brother!" Julian shouted over the deafening roar of the gale, pressing the barrel of a pistol against little Lily’s blanket. "One more step and the Ashford bloodline ends right here in the surf!"

Daniel froze twenty feet away, rain plastering his hair to his face, his pistol aimed steadily at Julian’s heart. His hands were dead calm. The storm seemed to fade into a muffled hum; all that existed in the universe was his wife, his child, and the monsters who hunted them.

"Put the gun down, Daniel," Vanessa screamed, her voice cracking with insane ecstasy. The wind whipped her sheared blonde hair wildly across her scarred face. "History loves a circle! First the balcony... now the sea! Let’s see you catch her this time!"

"Vanessa, look at me!" Daniel yelled, stepping an inch forward. "It’s over! The feds know about the breakout! Coast Guard cutters are already en route to this coordinate! You kill them, and you won't make it five miles off the coast!"

Julian laughed—a low, terrifying sound that cut through the thunder. "The Coast Guard works for the men who fund them, Daniel. You truly were our father's naive little prince."

Then, Vanessa leaned down, her lips brushing Emily’s ear as the knife blade drew a thin line of red on Emily’s porcelain throat.

"Did you ever wonder why father really died, Daniel?" Vanessa shrieked over the howling wind, her eyes wide with psychotic glee. "Julian didn't poison his scotch alone! Ask your precious wife who mixed his drinks twenty years ago! Ask your saintly Emily whose mother was Eleanor's personal maid!"

Daniel felt the universe collapse inward. His eyes snapped to Emily.

Emily looked up through the rain, tears streaming down her pale, battered face. Her lips parted, but before she could speak, her eyes widened in sheer, paralyzing horror.

*Click.*

Julian’s thumb pulled back the hammer of the gun pressed against the infant's cradle.