Chapter 14 - The Siege of Oakhaven
""Eleanor, listen to me!"" Julian shouted into the phone, the interceptor’s speedometer needle climbing past ninety miles per hour as he wove through the slick highway traffic. ""Do not come out of the root cellar! There is a heavy oak crossbar on the inside hatch—drop it into place!""
""They're breaking the back door, Julian!"" Eleanor’s voice was drowned out by the splintering crash of wood and the muffled, furious barking of a dog, followed instantly by the sharp, terrifying crack of a single gunshot. The barking stopped abruptly.
A small, high-pitched shriek echoed through the line—Lily’s voice, muffled by Eleanor’s hand.
""Julian... they shot Buster,"" Eleanor sobbed, her breath hitching in violent waves. ""They're inside the kitchen. I hear heavy boots right above our heads.""
""I am twelve minutes away, Eleanor! Twelve minutes! Hang on!""
Julian threw the phone onto the seat, gripping the steering wheel with white-hot intensity. He slammed the accelerator flat against the floorboards. The interceptor surged forward, its massive engine screaming as it blew through a red light at the highway junction, heading into the winding mountain roads that led to the isolated timber valleys of Oakhaven.
The rain turned into a sheets of freezing sleet, hammering against the windshield like thrown gravel. On the winding switchbacks, the rear tires slid out, threatening to send the heavy car over the unprotected cliff edges, but Julian steered into the skid with cold, mechanical precision. Every image of his life—his graduation, his wedding, Lily’s first steps—flashed before his eyes, tainted by the knowledge that the man who had paid for it all was currently sending hitmen to slaughter his blood.
As Julian rounded the final crest of the Oakhaven ridge, the pine canopy opened up. Through the darkness, the faint, yellow windows of the cedar cabin flickered through the trees. Parked in the driveway was a single black SUV, its engine idling, headlights illuminating the front porch.
Julian didn't hit the brakes. He didn't turn on his sirens.
He killed his own headlights, cutting the wheel hard to the left, using the heavy steel push-bar on the front of the interceptor to aim directly for the side of the SUV. He hit the idling vehicle at fifty miles per hour.
The impact was catastrophic. The SUV was shoved violently sideways, its glass shattering into thousands of diamond fragments as it rolled over into the ditch with a deafening screech of twisted metal.
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Julian’s airbags deployed with a concussive blast, stinging his face with powder. Through the haze, he saw two men in tactical gear burst out through the front door of the cabin, their automatic rifles leveled at his crumpled hood.
Julian grabbed the heavy tactical flashlight from the passenger seat, kicked his crushed door open, and rolled out onto the frozen pine needles just as a barrage of high-caliber rounds tore through the interceptor's windshield.
