Chapter 8 - The Shattered Hearth
The explosion tore the double oak doors from their brass hinges, hurling splinters across the grand marble foyer. Black smoke billowed into the grand hall, swallowing the golden light of the chandeliers. Through the haze, four heavily armed men clad in tactical armor surged forward, laser sights cutting through the dust.
"Down!" Lucas yelled, pulling Clara behind a thick marble column just as a volley of automatic fire chewed into the plasterwork.
Julian leaned out from behind the opposite balustrade, firing twice. One of the assailants crumpled to the floor, his rifle clattering against the tiles. Lucas fired three precise shots in return, forcing the other three into cover behind the grand staircase.
"They aren't here to arrest anyone!" Clara coughed, covering her mouth as the sulfurous smoke burned her lungs. "They're here to slaughter us!"
"They want the drive!" Julian called out over the ringing in his ears. "Lucas, there is a subterranean tunnel leading to the carriage house from the kitchen pantry. Move Clara there now!"
"I'm not leaving you to die for a sin you didn't commit!" Lucas shouted back, swapping his magazine with mechanical speed. "We move together, or we die together!"
Clara glanced down at the shattered tiles near her feet. Among the debris lay the silver platter she had carried only hours earlier while serving champagne to the wealthy patrons who despised her. A strange, bitter calm washed over her. She was no longer a frightened servant girl.
"The chandelier," Clara suddenly whispered, looking up through the smoke.
Lucas followed her gaze. The massive central chandelier hung from a heavy brass winch anchored near the second-floor banister.
May you like
"Julian!" Lucas roared. "Sever the winch cable at the landing!"
Julian understood instantly. Dodging through a hail of ricocheting bullets, he lunged for the eastern gallery, his hands finding the antique release mechanism. But just as his fingers wrapped around the iron lever, a bullet caught his right shoulder, spinning him backward against the wall in a spray of blood.
