Chapter 27 - The Glass Trap
"Noah, stop!" Daniel hissed, grabbing the boy's collar just as he took a step forward.
"She's alive, Dad! She's singing!" Noah pleaded, fighting against Daniel’s grip.
"Noah, look at the steps," Daniel whispered, pointing his rifle flashlight toward the landing just above them.
Reflected in the beam of light were nearly invisible strands of high-tensile monofilament wire stretched across the iron steps, wired directly to three military-grade fragmentation grenades taped to the central support pillar.
It was an ambush. The lullaby wasn't being sung live.
Daniel leaned forward, his flashlight beam piercing the shadows of the fifth landing. Taped to an old iron bracket was a portable Bluetooth speaker, playing the looping audio recording of Clara’s voice.
Noah stared at the tripwire, then at the speaker, his chest heaving with silent, shattering realization. "She... she set a trap for us?"
"Someone did," Daniel muttered, his heart aching for his son. "And they wanted us to rush up there without looking."
Daniel knelt down. Carefully, with steady hands, he used the wire clippers from Miller’s tactical kit to disable the tripwire. He detached two of the grenades, pocketing them.
"Whoever is at the top thinks we’re dead or coming up blind," Daniel whispered. "We take the high ground. Stay low."
They climbed past the disabled trap, reaching the heavy oak door that led into the glass lantern room.
Daniel placed his hand on the brass handle. He checked Maya—she was secure. He looked at Noah, who nodded solemnly, wiping the tears from his cheeks and hardening his jaw in a way no seven-year-old should ever have to do.
Daniel kicked the door open.
The circular lantern room exploded with cold wind. The massive Fresnel lens in the center was shattered, but the panoramic glass walls offered a terrifying view of the black ocean.
Standing by the broken window, wearing a black tactical trench coat, holding a customized sniper rifle, was a figure silhouetted against the storm.
The figure turned slowly, lowering the rifle.
The moonlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the face.
It wasn't Clara.
May you like
It was Vanessa.
***
