Chapter 16 - The Price of Defiance
The door swung fully open, creaking against its heavy hinges.
Elara stepped into the dim, stormy bedroom, holding baby Maya wrapped tightly against her chest in a thick cashmere blanket.
Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with an unrelenting, ferocious defiance.
Julian shifted his body immediately, attempting to place himself between the rifles and his wife.
"Stay back, Elara," Julian ordered under his breath, never taking his eyes off the mercenaries.
"No, Julian," Elara said, her voice echoing with sudden authority. "She doesn't get to terrorize us in our own home anymore."
Victoria smiled, a look of sickening satisfaction spreading across her aristocratic features.
"Look at you, playing the brave little matriarch," Victoria mocked, gesturing with the brass key. "Hand the child to my men, Elara. Do it now, and I might allow Julian to live long enough to watch me raise her in Geneva."
"You won't touch my daughter," Elara said, her tone deadpan and venomous.
Victoria sighed theatrically and looked at the mercenary on her left.
"Shoot Julian in the kneecap," Victoria commanded casually. "Let's see how long his wife's dignity lasts when he's screaming on the floor."
The mercenary raised his rifle stock to his shoulder.
Before his finger could squeeze the trigger, a thunderous explosion blew inward from the balcony doors.
A concussion flashbang detonated in a blinding white flare and an ear-splitting roar.
The mercenary on the left stumbled backward, blinded and disoriented by the shockwave.
Julian moved on pure instinct.
He lunged forward, closing the four-foot gap between himself and the second mercenary in a fraction of a second.
Julian grabbed the barrel of the assault rifle, forcing the muzzle downward as the weapon discharged a deafening three-round burst into the floorboards.
With a brutal twist of his hips, Julian slammed his forehead directly into the mercenary’s Kevlar-masked face.
The man grunted, staggering back as blood sprayed beneath his visor.
Through the lingering smoke on the balcony, a battered silhouette emerged like an apparition from the storm.
It was Ross, his tactical vest ripped and covered in soot, clutching a smoking tactical launcher in his left hand.
"Get down!" Ross roared through cracked, bleeding lips.
May you like
Victoria screamed in fury as the flashbang cleared, her face contorting into an expression of absolute madness.
"Kill them all!" Victoria shrieked, slamming her thumb directly onto the red button of the detonator.
