Chapter 9 - Into the Abyss
The cold hit Mark like an iron wall, stealing the breath from his lungs instantly. The lake water was pitch black and dense with tangled weeds. The hitman's heavy hands clamped around Mark’s throat, using his greater bulk to drive him down toward the silty bottom.
Mark thrashed wildly, his vision swimming with dark spots. His hand grazed the lakebed, fingers closing around a jagged piece of slate. With the last reserve of his fading strength, he drove the stone into the assailant's shoulder.
The grip on his throat broke. The hitman twisted away in agony, losing his bearings in the murky depths. Mark kicked furiously toward the faint shimmer of moonlight breaking through the surface.
He broke the surface gasping, vomiting lake water, coughing violently as the freezing rain lashed his face. He looked toward the shore. Chloe was already running back toward the main house, realizing the hitman had failed.
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Pulling himself onto the muddy embankment, shivering uncontrollably, Mark checked his pocket. The drive was sealed in water-resistant plastic tape; it was still secure. He couldn't go back to the manor alone. He needed a direct channel to authorities outside the local county jurisdiction, which had long been bought by the family’s wealth.
He dragged himself through the undergrowth toward the southern edge of the property where the old highway ran. Headlights suddenly swept through the trees. A black sedan was idling near the gates, its driver’s door swinging open slowly.
