Chapter 2 - Blood in the Parking Lot
The doors of the black SUV swung wide open, and three men stepped out into the wet asphalt. They weren't wearing ordinary clothes; they wore dark tactical gear with no insignia, their faces half-hidden beneath black balaclavas. Each of them held an automatic weapon equipped with heavy suppressors.
"Andrew Mercer!" the lead gunman shouted, his voice metallic and distorted through a tactical comms unit. "Hand over the kid and walk away. This isn't your fight. The board wants the nurse silenced, and the brat comes with the package."
I buried my face against Andrew’s heavy coat, clutching the fabric so tightly my knuckles turned white. I could feel the hard contours of his holster and the steady, iron-clad rhythm of his breathing. He wasn't scared. Not even a little bit.
"You stepped onto my turf," Andrew replied, his voice carrying across the empty parking lot like a winter gale. "You threatened a child. And worst of all... you touched what belongs to me."
"You think you own this city, Mercer? Times have changed—"
The man didn't get to finish his sentence. Andrew raised his pistol and fired twice with blinding speed. The suppressed thip-thip sound was drowned out by the squeal of tires as the two other gunmen scrambled for cover behind the open doors of the SUV.
"Take her," Andrew commanded without looking back.
One of his massive bodyguards—a man with a thick beard and a jagged scar across his cheek whom they called Viktor—swept me up into his arms in a single motion, shielding my head against his broad chest as he bolted toward the safety of Mercer's bulletproof Mercedes.
Gunfire erupted behind us. The sharp crack of automatic weapons shattered the quiet night, sending glass flying from the diner's front windows. I squeezed my eyes shut, my small body shaking as Viktor threw us both into the back seat of the luxury sedan.
"Stay down, little bird," Viktor muttered, slamming the heavy armored door shut.
Through the bulletproof tinted glass, I watched Andrew move. He didn't cower behind a car; he walked forward through a hail of bullets with terrifying, deliberate steps. Every shot he fired was precise, lethal, and absolute. Within thirty seconds, the gunfire stopped. Two of the masked men lay motionless on the pavement, and the third was pinned against the side of the SUV with a bullet through his shoulder, howling in pain as Andrew stood over him.
Andrew grabbed the wounded man by the collar of his tactical vest, hoisting him up off the ground with one hand as if he weighed nothing at all. He spoke softly, but even inside the car, I could see the terrifying fury distorting his features.
May you like
A moment later, Andrew tossed the man onto the pavement like a discarded rag doll, turned on his heel, and walked back toward the Mercedes.
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