Chapter 11 - The Furnace Vent
The steel grate beneath Victoria’s boots snapped open on high-tension springs, dropping her right leg into the recessed furnace exhaust chute. The sudden loss of footing threw her balance completely off; her weapon fired wildly toward the ceiling, sending ornamental plaster raining down.
Dominic lunged with the predatory speed of a coiled viper. In a single, seamless motion, he drew the combat knife from his chest rig and drove it down through the receiver of Victoria's submachine gun, pinning it to the floorboards and rendering the mechanism useless.
Victoria shrieked in rage, reaching for a backup blade tucked inside her sleeve, but Dominic’s fist caught her squarely across the cheekbone. The impact lifted her off her feet, sending her crashing into the shattered glass of the display cabinet, knocked out cold.
"Elena! Move!" Dominic barked, catching her by the arm and pulling her toward the emergency stairwell.
Behind them, Julian had scrambled to his hands and knees, grabbing the fallen ivory revolver. His face was twisted in psychotic rage, eyes bloodshot, veins pulsing in his forehead. "Dominic!" he screamed, cocking the hammer back.
Dominic spun around, shielding Elena and the twins with his broad back, his hand reaching for his sidearm.
BANG.
The gunshot tore through the room. But it didn't come from Julian’s gun, and Dominic didn't feel the sting of lead.
Julian blinked, looking down at his own chest in disbelief. A dark, blossoming circle of red appeared on his silk necktie. He dropped the revolver, wobbling on his knees before collapsing face-first onto the Persian rug.
Standing at the entrance of the library was Marcus, his tactical shotgun smoking, his uniform torn and blood-soaked from his own battles downstairs. "Sorry I'm late, boss," Marcus wheezed, leaning against the doorframe, his arm clutching a bullet wound in his shoulder. "Traffic in the hall was murder."
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Dominic exhaled, lowering his guard for the first time in an hour. But as he looked out through the shattered library windows, the distant drone of rotors shattered the brief reprieve.
"That’s not our chopper," Marcus said, his face hardening again.
