Chapter 6 - Shadows at Midnight
A clap of thunder shook the fortress as the first wave of attackers breached the outer iron gate. Outside, rain fell in blinding sheets, turning the surrounding pine forests into a swamp of shadows. Inside, Clara was breathing in ragged, shallow gasps on the leather sofa, her body racking with early labor contractions.
"She’s at thirty-one weeks," Marcus said grimly, strapping on a tactical vest and checking his rifle sights. "Without an incubator and neonatal care, that baby won't survive more than a few hours after birth, Julian. You can't stay here and fight a siege. You have to get her out."
"There is no way out," Julian said, his eyes scanning the security monitors. The screens flickered, showing four dark figures in balaclavas and night-vision goggles advancing across the gravel motor court, suppressed submachine guns raised. "They've surrounded the driveway. The only exit is the old maintenance funicular that leads down the cliff to the boat dock on the river."
Suddenly, the front windows exploded inward in a shower of reinforced safety glass.
Stun grenades went off with blinding, deafening flashes. *BANG-BANG-BANG.*
Marcus returned fire instantly, his rifle barking in rapid, controlled bursts, driving the lead intruder back over the stone balustrade. Julian scooped Clara into his arms, ignoring the agonizing spasms in his fractured ribs, and kicked open the heavy oak door leading to the cliffside tunnel.
"Marcus, fall back!" Julian yelled over the gunfire.
"Go! I'll buy you three minutes!" Marcus shouted, tossing an extra magazine to Julian. "Get your family on that boat!"
Julian ran down the damp, stone-carved tunnel beneath the house. Clara clutched his neck, her nails digging into his skin as another contraction tore through her.
"Julian, he's coming... I can feel his head, Julian, please!" she wept, tears mingling with sweat on her pale face.
"Hold on, Clara! Just hold on to me!"
At the end of the tunnel was the rusted iron cage of the funicular lift, hanging over a sheer three-hundred-foot drop down to the raging Hudson River below. But as Julian reached the metal platform, a voice stepped out of the shadows.
"Drop the weapon, little brother."
Julian froze.
Standing by the funicular control box, holding a silenced SIG Sauer pistol aimed directly at Clara’s head, was Carter Montgomery—Julian’s older half-brother, Eleanor’s firstborn son from her previous marriage.
May you like
Carter smiled, a wet, oily grin in the gloom. "Mother sends her love. She said I could keep your vintage Ferrari collection once we write you off as a murder-suicide."
***
