Chapter 2 - The Midnight Ambush
Headline: The Killers Pierced His Gates, But The Nanny Just Unleashed A Demon In The Dark!The red security lights painted the walls of the mansion in the color of fresh blood.
"Tristan!" Weston roared into his lapel communicator, releasing Holly instantly as his professional assassin instincts took over. He drew a sleek, black semi-automatic pistol from beneath his overcoat in one fluid motion. "Status!"
"Perimeter breached from the north woods!" Tristan’s voice crackled through the static, accompanied by the distant, muffled thud-thud-thud of suppressed gunfire. "They’re professional, Weston. They cut the main power and bypassed the thermal sensors. They’re inside the stables!"
"Midnight," Holly breathed out, her face instantly draining of what little color it had.
"Forget the damn horse, Elena!" Weston snarled, grabbing her arm. "We get Mary and we move to the safe room. Now!"
But Holly yanked her arm back with surprising, violent strength. "You don't understand! They aren't here for you, Hargrove! They followed me. And if they take that stallion, they take the key to everything my father hid!"
Without waiting for his permission, Holly bolted out of the nursery, sprinting down the grand staircase toward the back exit that led directly to the training rings. Weston cursed loudly, his heart pounding with an unfamiliar, chaotic panic. He radioed Tristan to secure Mary in the vault, then dove into the dark after his broke nanny.
Outside, a brutal summer storm had rolled in, rain lashing against the estate like shards of glass. The mud in the training ring was deep and slick. Through the downpour, Weston saw three heavily armed men dressed in black tactical gear trying to force a heavy iron transport cage into the ring. Inside the stables, Midnight was screaming—a terrifying, primal sound of a wild beast being pushed to its absolute limit.
A gunshot cracked through the air. One of Weston’s guards collapsed into the mud.
"Elena, get down!" Weston yelled, firing two precise shots into the darkness, dropping an advancing assassin.
But Holly didn't stop. She ran directly into the stable aisle, completely unarmed, her thrift-store sweater soaked and clinging to her skin.
Inside, two hitmen were trying to attach a high-voltage cattle prod to Midnight’s neck. The massive black Friesian was rearing, his hooves smashing against the wooden beams, blood pouring from his nostrils where a wire snare had cut deep.
"Let him go!" Holly screamed.
One of the hitmen turned, a cruel smile ripping across his scarred face. "Look what we found. The little princess. Nikolai will pay a king's ransom for your head, Elena."
He raised his weapon to fire at her legs, intending to disable her. But Holly didn't retreat. Instead, she let out a piercing, rhythmic, guttural cry—a sequence of clicks and harsh Russian commands that echoed like a war chant.
Midnight’s eyes went completely wild. Hearing her voice, the $1.4 million stallion stopped fighting the snare. Instead, he channeled all his massive, terrifying strength toward the hitman. The horse reared up, his massive iron-shod hooves striking forward with the force of a wrecking ball.
CRACK.
The hooves connected directly with the hitman’s chest, launching him through the air and crashing through the thick wooden stable partition. He lay entirely still, his ribs crushed.
The second assassin panicked, turning his rifle toward Holly. But Weston appeared out of the shadows like a wraith. He slammed his pistol into the man’s jaw, followed by a brutal knee to the sternum, throwing him to the ground and disarming him in seconds.
The stable went dead quiet, save for the heavy, ragged breathing of the horse and the two humans.
Holly stepped into the shattered stall, completely ignoring the blood and danger. She reached up, her soaked hair dripping onto her face, and wrapped her arms around Midnight’s massive neck. The stallion immediately buried his head against her shoulder, trembling, letting out a soft, defeated whimper.
Weston stood at the entrance of the stall, his gun still raised, his chest heaving. He looked at the dead assassin, then at the horse that had just killed a man on her command, and finally at Holly.
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"You're a weapon, aren't you?" Weston said, his voice raw and dangerous.
Holly looked back over her shoulder, her eyes cold as arctic ice. "My father didn't raise a nanny, Mr. Hargrove. He raised an alpha. And the man who sent these hitmen is the one who took everything from me. If you want your family to survive the night, you’re going to have to let me run this war."
