Chapter 7 - The Wrath of CrossBennett emerged from the shadows of the ruined study like a wraith of pure vengeance.
"Step away from the child," Bennett said.
The mercenary whipped around, drawing his sidearm, but Bennett was faster. A single round caught the man squarely in the chest, hurling him backward out of the bunker hatch and onto the blood-spattered floor of the study.
Bennett holstered his empty rifle, dropped down into the bunker, and immediately pulled Clara and Mia into his arms.
"Are you hurt?" Bennett demanded, his eyes scanning Clara’s face frantically.
"My... my wrist," Clara gasped, wincing in pain.
Bennett gently checked her arm, his jaw tightening into a rigid line. He looked at Mia, who was trembling but uninjured. He scooped the little girl up into one arm, extending his other hand to help Clara to her feet.
"We can't stay here," Bennett said. "They have the perimeter locked down, but the escape tunnel leading to the boathouse at the edge of the lake hasn't been compromised."
"Why are they doing this?" Clara cried out as they hurried through the narrow concrete corridor behind the bunker. "Who are these people?"
"Ghosts from my past," Bennett replied darkly. "Or rather, men who thought I buried them deep enough."
They reached the end of the tunnel, pushing open a heavy iron door that opened directly into the damp, chill air of the private boathouse. The dark waters of the lake lapped against the wooden docks, reflecting the distant, flickering orange glow of the burning mansion up the hill.
A sleek black motorboat was moored at the slip.
"Get in," Bennett ordered, helping Clara down into the hull and setting Mia beside her.
"Boss!"
Bennett turned. Walter limped out of the tunnel behind them, his shoulder soaked in blood, clutching a submachine gun in his left hand. Two of the surviving estate guards followed him closely, scanning the tree line.
"Walter, status," Bennett barked.
"We took out their comms truck, but more are coming up the access road," Walter panted, pressing a hand against his bleeding shoulder. "Boss, you need to take the boat and get them out. I'll hold the boathouse."
May you like
"No," Bennett said coldly. "We all go. Get on the boat."
Before Walter could argue, a blinding beam of light cut across the lake from the opposite shore. Two heavily armed speedboats bearing the Viper insignia surged out of the reed beds, cutting across the dark water straight toward the boathouse, heavy machine guns mounted on their bows spinning toward them.
