Chapter 7 - The Final StandGabriel strained against the two heavy guards pinning his arms, his face pressed against the dusty floor tile. Blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow.
Candice stood over him, laughing softly as she picked up the silver christening cup that had fallen from Gabriel’s jacket pocket.
“Such a pretty little heirloom,” Candice mocked, turning the antique silver over in her hands. “Too bad it’s going to melt down nicely with the rest of the estate.”
Pastor Thomas walked over, peering down at Gabriel with clinical detachment.
“It’s a shame, Gabriel. You were a model worker. Reliable, quiet, hardworking. If you had just stayed on your route to Phoenix as planned, none of this would have happened.”
“You... you cut the brake line,” Gabriel spat, blood on his teeth.
“Evan is very thorough,” Thomas smiled. “Just like he was with Thomas Mercer. Just like he was with all the others.”
Thomas raised a heavy, silenced pistol, pointing the barrel directly at Gabriel’s forehead.
“Any last words for your son, Gabriel? He’ll be joining you shortly.”
Gabriel closed his eyes, not in fear, but in profound sorrow. He had failed to protect Clara, and now he had failed Lucas.
“DROP THE WEAPON!”
A high, cracking voice echoed through the vast, hollow room.
Pastor Thomas froze, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Everyone’s head snapped toward the upper catwalk.
Standing on the metal balcony, bathed in the red glow of an emergency exit sign, was Lucas.
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In his hands, he wasn't holding a toy. He was holding an industrial heavy-duty flare gun he had pulled from the emergency kit of his father’s truck, and the bright, searing flame was pointed directly at the massive, wall-mounted fuel tanks that fed the facility's backup generator.
“Let him go!” Lucas screamed, his voice cracking with fury and adrenaline. “Or I swear to God, I’ll burn this whole place to the ground with all of us in it!”
