Chapter 9 - The Fall of Blackwood
"Julian!" Clara screamed, completely disregarding her own safety as she broke cover and bolted toward the stairs.
"Clara, stay down!" Lucas yelled, lunging forward to provide covering fire. He emptied his magazine into the hallway, forcing the advancing gunmen to duck behind the archways.
Clara scrambled up the marble steps, her apron stained with dust and crimson droplets. She reached Julian, who was slumping against the wainscoting, clutching his bleeding shoulder. His face was pale, his eyes struggling to stay focused.
"Clara... run..." Julian gasped, his fingers slipping from the iron release lever. "The lever... pull it..."
Two armed men stepped onto the lower landing, aiming their carbines straight at Clara.
With all the strength built from years of scrubbing floors and carrying heavy cast-iron pots, Clara threw her entire body weight against the ancient iron winch lever. With a screech of shearing metal, the gear gave way.
The three-ton crystal chandelier broke free from its ceiling mount with an earth-shattering roar.
It plummeted through the center of the foyer like an avalanche of glass and steel, crushing the entryway and the remaining mercenaries beneath tons of iron, brass, and shattered crystals. A deafening crash echoed through the estate, followed by absolute silence, save for the rain lashing against the broken windows.
Lucas vaulted over the smoking debris and sprinted up the stairs, checking Julian’s pulse. "He's alive, but the bullet hit close to the collarbone. We have to move before the second wave arrives."
Julian managed a weak smile, looking up at his daughter through the dust. "You... you have your mother's aim."
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"Don't talk," Clara sobbed, ripping off her white apron and pressing it tightly against Julian's wound to stem the bleeding. "You promised to tell me everything. You don't get to die on me now."
Lucas hauled Julian up onto his shoulders, groaning under the weight. "The carriage house. Let's go before they realize the foyer collapsed."
