Chapter 3 - Dominic Draws His Weapon In The Cellar
Dominic pulled the Sig Sauer pistol completely free from its holster, the metallic slide clicking with lethal precision.
He moved toward the stone staircase leading up to the main kitchen, keeping his body low and balanced.
“Wait,” Evelyn hissed, reaching out in the dark to grab the sleeve of Dominic’s expensive black wool coat.
Dominic stopped, his muscles coiled like a spring while his ears strained to catch the subtle noises above them.
A faint scratching sound echoed near the top of the wooden stairs, followed by the muffled click of a flashlight.
A narrow beam of white LED light cut through the cracks beneath the cellar door, sweeping across the floor.
“They’re checking the basement access points,” Evelyn whispered into Dominic’s ear, her breath warm against his skin.
Dominic adjusted his grip on the firearm, his finger resting lightly along the trigger guard as he aimed upward.
“How many?” Dominic asked quietly.
“At least three based on the resonance of the footsteps overhead,” Evelyn replied without a moment of hesitation.
Grace stood ten feet behind them, her head tilted slightly as she listened to the rhythmic thud of combat boots.
“They’re wearing standard rubber-soled tactical boots,” Grace whispered, surprising both adults with her clinical observation. “Not street shoes.”
Dominic glanced back at his daughter through the gloom, a cold knot of dread twisting violently in his stomach.
“How can you tell?” Dominic asked.
“The friction sound is muffled against the oak floorboards,” Grace explained simply. “Mercenaries, not street thugs.”
The flashlight beam outside the door paused, shining directly through the narrow gap beneath the threshold.
Dominic held his breath, knowing that a single sound or a reflection off his watch could betray their position.
The light shifted away, moving toward the pantry on the far side of the kitchen floor upstairs.
“Evelyn, keep Grace safe,” Dominic commanded in a low, dangerous tone. “I’m going up to clear the threshold.”
“I’m coming with you,” Evelyn stated, drawing a compact steel combat knife from her waistband with fluid grace.
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“No, you protect my daughter,” Dominic replied, already taking his first silent step toward the stone cellar steps.
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