Chapter 6 - THE STORMY DOCK
The chase across the storm-tossed lake reached a fever pitch as high winds whipped the water into jagged six-foot waves.
Sarah navigated the roaring boat with practiced, terrifying precision, using the shallow reefs of the lake’s North Bay to trip up the larger, heavier yacht pursuing them. The sound of Viktor Solokov’s yacht scraping against the underwater granite rocks echoed across the water—a harsh metallic scream that forced the larger vessel to veer off course.
"We have two minutes before they clear the reef!" Sarah yelled over the roar of the engines and the howling wind. "The dock is just ahead!"
Through the thick curtain of rain, the outline of an abandoned timber mill came into view. A long, weathered wooden pier stretched out into the dark water.
Andrew sprang into action, securing the mooring lines as Sarah skillfully slammed the engines into reverse, bringing the interceptor to a precise halt alongside the wooden pylons.
"Get the kids inside the mill!" Sarah commanded, jumping onto the wet dock.
Andrew carried Leo and Maya, while Sarah took young Emma, rushing up the slippery planks toward the heavy double doors of the old timber facility. Inside, the vast space was filled with forgotten machinery, piles of sawdust, and heavy steel beams—a perfect fortress.
Andrew set the children down behind a stack of heavy oak timbers. "Stay quiet, babies. Stay right here."
Outside, the searchlight of Solokov’s yacht swept across the mill’s shattered windows. The heavy rumble of the yacht’s engines died down as it tied off at the main pier.
Footsteps echoed across the wooden planks—at least six heavy boots moving in tactical formation.
Viktor Solokov’s voice echoed through the vast, hollow mill, smooth, cultured, and dripping with arrogance.
"Sarah! Mr. Vance!" Viktor called out, his voice amplified by a loudhailer. "There is no need for further unpleasantness. You have fought admirably. But look around you. The lake is isolated. Your estate is burning. You have nowhere to go."
Sarah stood in the shadows beside Andrew, her gun held ready, her eyes calm and cold.
"What do you want, Solokov?" Andrew shouted from the upper gantry, leaning out just enough to draw attention away from Sarah’s position.
"I want the ledger, Mr. Vance!" Solokov replied, walking into the main floor of the mill under the guard of three armed mercenaries. "Give me the drive, and I will allow you and your children to live out your days on a quiet beach somewhere. Refuse, and I will erase your bloodline tonight."
"You already tried that three years ago!" Sarah’s voice rang out from the darkness of the lower floor.
Solokov turned toward her voice, a cruel smile touching his lips. "Ah, the ghost herself. I must admit, Mrs. Vance, your survival was an impressive display of resilience. But you made one critical mistake."
"And what was that?" Sarah asked quietly.
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"You brought a family to a war," Solokov sneered, raising his hand to signal his men.
Before his hand could drop, a sharp red laser dot appeared directly on Solokov’s chest.
