Chapter 4 - Shadows in the FoyerThe sound of shattering glass echoed through the sprawling corridors like rolling thunder. From her hiding spot beneath the heavy mahogany desk, Renley clamped both hands over her mouth to stifle the terrified sobs threatening to break free. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Outside the study door, the muffled pop of a suppressed firearm punctuated the heavy silence, followed by the dull thud of a body hitting the polished marble floor.
Was that Viktor? Was it one of the guards? Renley squeezed her eyes shut, whispering a desperate prayer that she had learned at the community kitchen.
Footsteps—heavy, calculated, and wearing combat boots—approached the study door. One, two, three sets of footsteps. They stopped right outside the threshold.
“Clear,” a harsh, raspy voice hissed through a radio communicator. “The old man’s office is straight ahead. Vance must have the ledger inside.”
Renley held her breath, curling herself into a tight ball against the back wall of the kneehole space. The bottom of the heavy wooden door had a two-inch gap, through which she could see the polished black boots of the intruders pausing just outside.
Click.
The doorknob turned slowly.
Renley’s mind raced back to the community kitchen, to Mrs. Gable laughing while flipping pancakes, to Mr. Pike smiling as he took his first bite of warm soup. Is this how it ends? she thought, a tear finally escaping down her cheek. Because I wanted to be kind?
Suddenly, before the door could swing fully open, a blinding flash of orange light erupted from the hallway ceiling, followed by a deafening roar.
BOOM!
The concussive blast blew the study door off its reinforced hinges, sending splinters of wood flying across the room. One of the intruders screamed, tumbling backward into the hallway amidst a cloud of gray drywall dust and acrid smoke.
“Flank left! Flank left!” another voice shouted in a panic.
A furious exchange of automatic gunfire lit up the doorway. Sparks flew as bullets chewed into the mahogany walls and shattered the glass bookcase, raining books and ceramic shards down around the desk.
Through the haze of smoke, a dark figure stepped backward into the study, slamming the splintered frame shut and locking the heavy deadbolt with a frantic click.
It wasn't Alistair.
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It was Viktor, his left shoulder stained a dark, wet crimson, blood soaking rapidly through his tactical vest. He was breathing heavily, his eyes wild as he scanned the room. When his gaze fell upon the desk, he saw Renley huddled in the shadows.
“Kid,” Viktor gasped, pressing his back against the battered door to hold it shut against a new wave of heavy impacts from the hallway. “Kid, listen to me. We’ve got to move. Now.”
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