Chapter 8 - The Frozen Marsh
The biting winter wind tore at my jacket as I scrambled through the open window into the knee-deep snow of the marshland, holding Callie tightly against my chest. Every breath burned my lungs like fire, but I didn't slow down. I pushed through the tangled briars and frozen reeds, stepping carefully over the icy crust of the marsh puddles.
Behind us, muffled shouts echoed from the cabin, followed by the dull thud of a concussion grenade shaking the frozen ground.
Stay down, Callie, I whispered into her hair, shielding her face with my coat as a distant burst of automatic gunfire chattered through the pines, chewing up the bark of the trees high above our heads.
Elena was holding them off, but she couldn't last long against a professional syndicate clean-up crew.
We crested a snow-covered ridge, slipping and sliding down the embankment until my boots hit the hard gravel of an old service road. Parked fifty yards down the shoulder was Elena’s rusted sedan, its engine idling, puffing white exhaust into the freezing air.
I rushed to the driver’s side, yanked the door open, and carefully placed Callie in the front passenger seat, pulling the worn seatbelt across her small frame.
"Hold on tight, baby," I panted, sliding behind the wheel and slamming the gear shift into drive.
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The tires spun wildly in the slush before catching traction on the asphalt, sending the sedan fishtailing down the dark, winding mountain road. I glanced in the rearview mirror. Through the swirling snow, two black SUVs with high-intensity LED lightbars were tearing out from the service trail behind us, closing the gap at terrifying speed.
Richard Vance wasn't just trying to cover his tracks; he was trying to erase our entire family line before the sun came up.
