Chapter 8 - The Siege of the Obsidian LodgeThree days of eerie silence passed in the mountains. Vincent spent every waking hour teaching Leo how to throw a baseball in the courtyard, carving wooden toy wolves by the fire, and reading him stories about heroes who fought dragons.

On the fourth night, the security monitors flickered.
Red warning lights bathed the wooden interior of the lodge in a blood-red glow. Muted explosions echoed from the perimeter fence three miles down the mountain road.
"Dad?" Leo whispered, waking up from the sofa, clutching his stuffed bear.
Vincent was already pulling a tactical vest over his black turtleneck, checking the magazine of his custom submachine gun. His face was carved from granite—absolute, unyielding, terrifying focus.
"Stay right here in the panic room, Leo," Vincent said, his voice firm yet gentle as he guided the boy toward a heavily reinforced steel vault behind the bookshelf. "Lock the door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone except me. Do you understand?"
"I want to stay with you!" Leo cried, tears welling in his big eyes.
"Listen to me, son," Vincent knelt, looking straight into Leo's eyes. "You gave me a reason to live. Now let me protect that reason. I love you, Leo."
"I love you too, Dad."
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The heavy steel door sealed shut with a pneumatic hiss.
Outside, the heavy thrum of rotor blades shook the double-paned glass of the lodge. Rappelling ropes whipped against the roof. The siege had begun.