Chapter 9 - Grace Uses Her Heightened Senses To Survive
Back down in the subterranean wine cellar, the two new mercenaries dropped through the iron utility hatch simultaneously.
They hit the brick floor with heavy thuds, their night-vision goggles casting an eerie green glow across the room.
Grace heard the fabric of their clothing rustle before their boots even touched the damp floorboards beneath them.
“Left flank,” Grace whispered to Evelyn, her wooden baton raised in a textbook defensive posture.
Evelyn slipped away into the darkness toward the right aisle, leaving the front approach entirely open to the intruders.
The first mercenary swept his rifle barrel forward, cursing in Italian as he stepped blindly into the narrow wine racks.
“I see the kid!” the mercenary called out to his partner, stepping directly toward where Grace stood unmoving.
Grace waited, listening to the shift of his weight, the heavy cadence of his breathing, and the metallic clink of gear.
The man lunged forward, grabbing for her collar with a gloved hand meant to drag her upward.
Grace ducked under his reach with fluid grace, pivoting on her heel and driving her elbow upward into his ribs.
The man grunted, losing his breath instantly as the sharp impact knocked him violently against a rack of vintage merlot.
Hundreds of bottles cascaded downward like an avalanche, burying the struggling mercenary beneath tons of shattering glass.
“Merd—” the second mercenary shouted, turning his rifle toward the sound of his fallen comrade in confusion.
Evelyn struck from behind like a ghost, her combat knife flashing once in the dim light before plunging into his shoulder.
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The man collapsed instantly, unconscious before his body even hit the sticky, wine-soaked cellar floor.
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