Chapter 4 - The Breach
The seconds stretched into eternity. The barrel of the silenced weapon was positioned less than two feet below where Alara lay on the dusty joists. She could see the dark eye of the suppressor aimed directly at the center of the wooden hatch.
Jack didn't hesitate. He knew the moment the man fired a test burst into the ceiling, the bullets would shred through the thin plywood and hit either Alara or the children.
With a terrifying, guttural roar, Jack smashed his full weight downward, kicking the wooden hatch completely out of its frame.
The hatch cover struck the scarred man square in the face, shattering his nose and dropping him to his knees. Jack plummeted through the opening right behind it, landing on the second mercenary with the force of a falling anvil.
The room erupted into violence.
The second man went down hard, his head bouncing off the oak floorboards. Jack grabbed the man's throat with one hand, twisting hard until a sickening crack echoed through the apartment.
The scarred man, blood streaming from his face, scrambled backward, trying to bring his submachine gun to bear. But Jack was already moving. Disregarding his reopening wound, Jack stepped inside the man's guard, driving the heel of his palm into the mercenary’s sternum. The man gasped for air, and Jack stripped the weapon from his hands in a fluid, practiced disarm, sweeping his leg out to break the man's knee.
The scarred mercenary hit the floor, groaning in agony. Jack pressed the warm barrel of the captured gun against the man’s forehead.
"Who else is in the alley?" Jack demanded, his voice chillingly calm.
"Go... go to hell, Mercer," the man spat, blood bubbling on his lips.
Mercer. Alara heard the name from the attic hatch. His real name isn't Jack. It's Mercer.
Jack didn't waste breath arguing. He struck the man across the temple with the butt of the rifle, knocking him instantly unconscious.
"Alara! Down! Now!" Jack yelled, turning back toward the hatch.
Alara carefully handed the laundry basket down through the opening before lowering herself into the wreckage of her living room. The apartment was ruined. Blood splattered the floor, furniture was overturned, and two unconscious, possibly dead mercenaries lay in the middle of her rug.
"We have three minutes before the man outside realizes his team isn't responding," Jack—or Mercer—said, pulling a spare tactical vest from one of the downed men and strapping it over his bandaged chest. He picked up the submachine gun and tossed two spare magazines to Alara. "Put these in your pockets."
"I don't know how to use a gun!" she said, her voice shaking as she stuffed the heavy metal clips into her coat.
"You don't need to. You just need to hold the infants and stay behind me." Mercer picked up the tactical double baby carrier he had brought earlier, securing it tightly over the vest. He carefully lifted Leo and Stella out of the laundry basket, strapping them securely against his chest once more.
"Where are we going?" Alara asked, her eyes darting toward the open door. "The front street is blocked!"
"The roof," Mercer said, heading for the kitchen. "Old buildings like this in the historic district have connected fire-escapes along the rooftops. We move across three roofs, drop down into the bakery on Fifth Street, and steal their delivery van."
"Steal a van?!"
"I'll leave a stack of cash on the counter," Mercer gritted out, wincing as he stretched his arms to secure the baby straps. "Come on!"
They bolted out of the apartment, taking the narrow iron ladder up to the roof hatch.
As Mercer kicked open the roof door, the full force of the gale-force storm hit them. Rain lashed at their faces like needles, and the wind howled through the urban canyon. Across the slick, black gravel of the roof, the city lights flickered in the storm.
"Keep low!" Mercer shouted over the wind, shielding the babies with his broad body as he sprinted across the roof.
Suddenly, a brilliant beam of light cut through the rain from the street below. A spotlight attached to an armored SUV illuminated the roof deck.
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"THERE THEY ARE!" a voice shouted over a loudspeaker.
Glass shattered as a volley of suppressed gunfire chewed into the brick parapet beside them, sending showers of sharp mortar spraying through the storm.
