Chapter 9 - Blood on the Nursery FloorThe reinforced steel door of the third-floor hallway hissed open.
Two mercenaries stepped out of the private elevator, their weapons leveled, moving with the cold, calculated efficiency of professional killers. They didn't check the corners; they headed straight for the double doors of Sofia’s nursery.
The lead operative raised a heavy hydraulic breaching tool, preparing to pop the door locks in a single strike.
Before he could swing, the hallway ceiling above them splintered.
Ethan dropped feet-first through the drop-ceiling drywall, kicking the second operative directly in the chest and sending him crashing backward into the wall.
The lead operative spun around, raising his carbine, but Ethan deflected the barrel with his left hand while driving his fist square into the man’s jaw. The mercenary staggered, recovered, and lunged forward with a combat knife.
The blade sliced a shallow cut across Ethan’s forearm, warm blood soaking through his shirt. But Ethan didn't even flinch. Adrenaline and pure, animalistic fury surged through his veins. He grabbed the mercenary’s wrist, twisted it until bone snapped with a sickening pop, and drove his knee upward into the man's chest.
The operative collapsed like a broken doll.
Ethan stood over him, his chest heaving, his blood dripping onto the pristine white carpet of the hallway.
He didn't waste a second. He turned and hammered a three-digit code into the digital keypad beside the nursery doors.
The lock clicked green.
Ethan shoved the doors open and stepped inside.
The room was pitch black.
"Rosa?" Ethan whispered harshly, raising his weapon.
A soft, muffled sound came from the walk-in closet in the corner. Ethan rushed over, pulled the louvers open, and found Rosa huddled on the floor, holding Sofia tightly against her chest. The little girl was crying softly, her face buried in Rosa’s shoulder, terrified by the gunfire echoing through the halls.
Rosa looked up at Ethan, her eyes wide with terror, her face stained with tears. She saw the blood on his arm, the grim set of his jaw.
"Are you... are you hurt?" she whispered.
"I’m fine," Ethan said, kneeling down and gently placing a hand over Sofia’s trembling back. He looked at his daughter, his voice softening instantly despite the chaos outside. "Hey, sweet girl. It’s okay. Daddy’s here. You’re safe."
Sofia sniffled, turning her tear-streaked face toward him. She reached out a small, trembling hand and touched his cheek, exactly as she had touched him at the funeral hours earlier.
"Daddy," she whimpered.
Ethan closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against her tiny hand. For a fleeting second, the entire world outside—the mercenaries, the corporate war, the blood on the carpet—ceased to exist.
Then, the heavy oak door at the end of the hallway creaked open.
May you like
Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, and entirely unhurried.
Ethan’s eyes snapped open. He handed Sofia gently back to Rosa, pressed his finger to his lips, and raised his carbine as he stepped silently out of the closet.
