Chapter 8 - The Siege of Blackwood
"Take Mia and Martha’s truck," Adrian commanded, not turning around. He racked the lever of the hunting rifle with a smooth, metallic clatter.
Elena sprang up. "No! Adrian, you can’t fight five or six armed men alone. You’re barely healing!"
"If you stay, we all die," Adrian said, turning to face her. For the first time, his fierce eyes softened, carrying a profound, heartbreaking serenity. "Martha knows the logging back-roads through the creek bed. The truck can slip out through the south drainage while I draw them up the front trail."
"Adrian..." Tears spilled over Elena's cheeks. "Julian wanted you to live. He didn't want you to trade your life for his again."
"I’m not trading my life for Julian," Adrian said gently. He knelt by the foot of the loft ladder as Mia rubbed her eyes, waking up.
"Uncle Ade?" she asked, clutching her toy rabbit to her chest.
Adrian reached out, his scarred, tattooed finger gently brushing her cheek. "Hey, little bird. Remember the game we practiced? About being quiet like a little deer in the tall grass?"
She nodded solemnly.
"You go with Aunt Elena and Miss Martha. You hold tight to that bunny, and you don't make a sound until you see the big city lights. Okay?"
"Are you coming?" she asked, her hazel eyes wide, innocent, searching his face.
"I’m going to make sure the dragon doesn't leave the mountain," Adrian whispered. He leaned down and kissed her forehead—a kiss sealed with the finality of a soldier entering the breach. "Now go."
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Elena grabbed Mia, wrapping her in an oversized woolen blanket. Martha took Elena’s arm, pulling her toward the cellar door that opened into the concealed ravine behind the woodpile. As the heavy wooden hatch closed, the rumble of high-displacement SUV engines echoed up the granite road.
Adrian chambered a .30-30 round, stepped onto the porch, and waited.
