Chapter 6 - The Iron and the Lake
The amplified voice of the syndicate commander scraped across the frozen grass like jagged glass. From my position behind the stone retaining wall of the terrace, I could see the heavy silhouette of the armored vehicle idling near the rose garden, its tires crushing three years of careful landscaping into muddy sludge.
Beside me, Ava leaned heavily against my shoulder, her breath coming in shallow hitches, while Harper huddled behind a concrete pillar with her hands clamped over her ears.
“Dad...” Harper sobbed, her voice trembling violently. “They’re not going to let us leave, are they?”
“Look at me, Harper,” I said, turning her face toward mine and forcing every ounce of authority I possessed into my voice. “We are walking out of here. Every single one of us. Do you trust me?”
She nodded, tears tracking through the dirt on her cheeks. “I trust you.”
“Good.” I turned my gaze back to Claire.
The former combat medic was crouched low beside the edge of the patio stairs, her submachine gun resting calmly across her knee, her eyes scanning the dark treeline with chilling professional detachment. She didn't look like a woman trapped by an army; she looked like an apex predator calculating wind speed and bullet drop.
“Mr. Vale,” Claire said without turning around, her voice steady and low. “That armored rig is a modified civilian transport plated with Level III steel. Small arms fire won’t scratch the glass. But the driver’s side wheel well is exposed every time they pivot to adjust the spotlight angle.”
“You’ve got a plan?” I asked, sliding a fresh magazine into the grip of my pistol.
“I always have a plan,” Claire replied, a faint, cold smile touching the corner of her mouth. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out two heavy, modified flashbang grenades—items that definitely weren't stocked on any grocery store cleaning supply list. “When I toss the first one toward the greenhouse, their attention is going to snap left. When I toss the second one under the armored vehicle, the driver is going to panic and reverse blind into the decorative stone fountain behind him.”
“And if he doesn't?”
“Then I introduce a 9-millimeter armor-piercing round directly through his steering column,” she said simply. “Ready?”
Before I could answer, Claire’s arm whipped forward with terrifying velocity.
Crack-flash!
A blinding magnesium flare exploded near the greenhouse, turning the dark night into daylight for a fraction of a second and sending three masked syndicate operatives diving into the mud with screams of shock. Instantly, the heavy armored vehicle pivoted its turret and spotlight toward the flash, exposing its flank.
Thud-clatter.
The second grenade skidded neatly under the chassis of the armored rig.
BOOM!
The concussive shockwave rattled our teeth. The heavy vehicle heaved upward on its suspension as the front right tire blew out in a shower of sparks and shredded rubber. Predictably, the panicked driver threw the transmission into reverse, stepping hard on the gas. The rear end fishtailed wildly, crunching backward with a sickening sound of metal folding against stone as it slammed directly into the massive concrete fountain in the center of the courtyard.
“Now! Move!” Claire barked, springing out from behind the wall.
“Vance, on your feet!” I hauled the disgraced logistics manager up by his collar, shoving him stumbling down the stone stairs toward the dark expanse of the lawn.
We ran.
With Ava limping hard against my side, Harper clinging to my jacket sleeve, and Claire covering our rear with disciplined, rhythmic bursts of suppression fire, we sprinted across the frozen grass toward the shadowy bulk of the old stone boathouse.
Behind us, shouts of fury echoed through the cold night air as the syndicate backup scrambled to recover from the ambush. But in the dark and the confusion, the estate’s sprawling landscape was on our side.
We reached the heavy wooden double doors of the boathouse just as a fresh round of suppressed fire chipped the stone lintel above our heads.
“In! In! In!” Claire commanded, kicking the heavy oak door open with her boot and ushering the girls inside ahead of us.
May you like
I shoved Vance through the threshold, piled in right behind him, and slammed the massive timber doors shut, throwing the heavy iron deadbolt just as the first heavy blows from the syndicate vanguard began to hammer against the outside.
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