Chapter 7 - The Siege on the Cliff
The heavy iron door at the base of the Blackwood Lighthouse buckled under the blow of a heavy sledgehammer.
CRASH!
Inside the dark, damp spiral staircase, Pearl dragged her heavy, pregnant body up the narrow stone steps as fast as she could. Every step sent a sharp ache through her lower back, but the terrifying image of the men below pushed her forward.
"Check the upper levels!" a harsh voice shouted from the ground floor. "Romano wants the girl alive! The baby is our leverage!"
Pearl reached the top landing, ninety feet above the crashing waves of the ocean. She scrambled through the narrow metal hatch leading into the glass lantern room, slamming the heavy iron plate shut and throwing the heavy brass deadbolt into place.
She collapsed against the cold glass wall, gasping for air, her hand resting tightly over her swollen stomach.
Outside, the storm raged with terrifying force. Wind howled against the thick glass panes, and lightning flashed across the black sky, illuminating the churning white water three hundred feet below the cliff edge.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Heavy fists began pounding against the iron hatch beneath her feet.
"Open the door, Mrs. Moretti!" a voice mocked from below. "Your husband isn't here to save you this time! Open up and nobody gets hurt!"
Pearl looked around the circular lantern room in absolute desperation. There were no weapons. Only the massive glass lens of the lighthouse, an old oil lantern, and a crate of tools left by maintenance workers decades ago.
She grabbed a heavy iron wrench from the crate, her hands shaking, her breath ragged.
"I won't let you take my child," Pearl whispered into the dark room, setting her jaw with a fierce, maternal bravery she didn't know she possessed. "I won't."
BOOM!
Below the cliff, a pair of bright headlights tore through the blinding rain.
Cornelius’s black Mercedes smashed through the wooden gate of the lighthouse property, spinning out on the wet grass before crashing to a stop mere feet from the Romano syndicate's black SUV.
Cornelius didn't wait for Marco, who was trailing ten minutes behind in a second car. He kicked his door open, stepping out into the howling storm, a heavy silver pistol held firmly in his right hand.
His face was terrifying—unreadable, icy, and dripping with rain.
Two Romano guards posted outside the lighthouse entrance turned in shock, reaching for their weapons.
Pop! Pop!
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Cornelius fired two precise, lethal shots before the men could even clear their holsters. The guards collapsed onto the muddy grass without a sound.
Cornelius walked past their bodies without taking a second glance, stepping through the shattered iron doorway into the dark spiral staircase of the lighthouse, his pistol raised, his heart burning with pure fire.
