Chapter 16 - The Ambush in the Dark
The French doors exploded inward in a shower of tempered safety glass and blizzard winds.
Two heavily armed operatives dressed in white tactical winter camouflage breached the room, their suppressed submachine guns already sweeping the space. But Daniel had already anticipated the breach.
Before the first mercenary's boots even touched the hardwood floor, Daniel dropped to one knee and fired a controlled three-round burst. The heavy 5.56mm rounds hammered into the point-man’s ballistic plate, knocking him backward through the shattered frame into the snow.
The second operative fired blindly, the suppressed rounds tearing through the leather armchairs and shattering the antique porcelain vases into clouds of dust.
Daniel lunged forward, closing the distance before the shooter could adjust his aim. He grabbed the barrel of the mercenary’s weapon, wrenching it upward as a burst of automatic fire chewed into the wooden beams of the ceiling. With his left hand, Daniel drove a tactical combat knife upward into the soft seam of the operative's neck armor.
The mercenary choked on a bloody gasp, collapsing heavily to the ground at Daniel’s feet.
"Daniel!" Emily’s scream pierced the gloom.
From the hallway behind them, a third figure stepped into the shadows. But this one wasn't carrying a rifle. In his right hand, the man held a heavy Colt .45, and in his left, he dragged a bloody, battered Julian Sterling by the collar of his coat.
"Drop the weapon, Sergeant Vance," a deep, gravelly voice echoed from the shadows. "Or your brother-in-law gets his skull ventilated right in front of his wife."
Daniel turned slowly, his rifle held at low-ready. Through the gloom, the man stepped into the faint red emergency lighting. He had a jagged scar running from his ear down to his collarbone, cold reptilian eyes, and the calm demeanor of a professional executioner.
"Marcus Cole," Daniel spat, his jaw clenching until his teeth nearly cracked. "Victoria’s personal clean-up crew. I thought you were rotting in a black site in Poland."
"Your mother thought the same thing thirty years ago, Daniel," Cole replied with a sickening smirk, pressing the cold barrel of the .45 directly into Julian's temple. Julian was barely conscious, his face swollen and bleeding, but his eyes locked onto Emily with an expression of pure, desperate agony.
"Run... Emily... run..." Julian wheezed, blood dripping from his split lip.
"Shut up," Cole grunted, striking Julian across the face with the heavy steel frame of the pistol. Julian slumped limp onto the floor.
May you like
Cole locked his gaze onto Daniel. "Victoria sends her regards. The orders are simple: the child leaves with me. The rest of you stay here... permanently. Put the rifle down, Vance, or I paint this wall with Julian's brains, and then I come for your sister."
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