Chapter 8 - The War in the Dark
Glass rained down like a glittering curtain.
Knox reacted instantly, throwing his massive frame across Dominic, pulling his suppressed 9mm pistol from his shoulder holster.
Victor pressed the button on the remote.
BOOM.
A heavy, reverberating explosion rocked the subterranean floor of the bank. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered once, twice, and died completely, plunging the vault room into pitch-black darkness.
Emergency red backup lights clicked on five seconds later, casting long, crimson shadows across the bloodied carpet.
“Clear!” Knox roared, firing three rapid shots through the shattered glass door into the corridor where Victor’s mercenary team was advancing.
Victor scrambled back through the shattered glass into the darkness of the outer hallway, his boots crunching against the crystal shards.
“Get the girl!” Victor’s voice echoed down the concrete corridor. “Kill Vale! Leave no witnesses!”
Inside the small vault room, Dominic pushed Knox off him, his mouth bleeding where he had hit the edge of the mahogany table. He looked down at the floor, where Claire lay crouched over Audrey, protecting the child’s body with her own frame.
“Are you hit?!” Dominic demanded, dropping to his knees beside them.
“We’re okay!” Claire gasped, her hands checking Audrey’s body for injuries. Audrey was trembling violently, her eyes wide with terror in the red gloom, her hands clutched around her rabbit.
Dominic reached into Knox’s spare holster, pulled out a compact Glock handgun, racked the slide with a sharp metallic click, and handed it directly to Claire.
Claire looked at the heavy black weapon in her hands.
“Do you know how to use that?” Dominic asked, his dark eyes locking onto hers with absolute trust.
“My father was an accountant,” Claire said quietly, her thumb slipping the safety off with practiced ease. “He taught me how to shoot before he died.”
Dominic felt a shock of surprise, but there was no time to question her past.
“Stay behind the table with Audrey,” Dominic ordered. “Knox and I will clear the hallway corridor to the elevator.”
“Dominic, wait!” Claire called out, grabbing his sleeve.
She pointed to Audrey, who was rapidly signing against the floorboards.
Two men left corridor, Audrey signed, her small hands precise despite her terror. One man near elevator stairs. Heavy boots. Walking slow.
Claire translated instantly: “Audrey can feel the vibrations in the floorboards. Two men in the main corridor, one sniper waiting near the stairwell door.”
Dominic stared at his eight-year-old daughter. The silent child he had thought was broken, helpless, and weak was serving as their tactical sonar in the dark.
A grim, fierce pride flooded Dominic’s chest.
He looked at Knox. “You take the left corridor. I’ll take the stairwell. On my signal.”
Dominic lowered himself beside Audrey, taking her small face in his broad hands. He looked directly into her eyes and signed slowly, clearly, with perfect form:
You are brave. I love you.
Audrey’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded firmly, her small hand making the sign for Go.
Dominic stood up, stepped over the broken glass, and vanished into the crimson darkness of the hallway.
Gunfire erupted three seconds later—sharp, loud, echoes bouncing off the subterranean concrete walls like thunder.
Claire crouched low beside the table, holding the heavy Glock with two steady hands, her body positioned between the shattered doorway and the little girl.
A heavy boot stepped on broken glass right outside their door.
A shadow detached itself from the hallway, stepping into the red emergency light of the vault room—a mercenary wearing a black tactical vest, holding a submachine gun.
He raised his weapon toward Claire.
Claire didn't hesitate. She squeezed the trigger twice.
The twin cracks of the Glock shattered the small room. The mercenary gasped, stumbled backward, his weapon dropping to the carpet as he collapsed into the hallway glass.
Claire’s heart pounded in her ears, the smell of gunpowder filling her nostrils. She kept her weapon trained on the door, her breathing slow and controlled.
Audrey reached out, touching Claire’s elbow.
Daddy got the bad man, Audrey signed, looking at the ceiling where the heavy vibrations of steps had ceased.
Two seconds later, Dominic stepped back into the doorway, his suit torn, his knuckles bloody, holding a tactical radio he had taken from a downed guard.
May you like
He looked at the dead mercenary on the floor, then at Claire, who stood with her weapon steady, protecting his daughter.
“The stairwell is clear,” Dominic said, his voice raw. “Police sirens are three blocks out. We move now.”
