Chapter 9 - The Siege at the EstateThe warning proved prophetic before the hour was even out.
The heavy oak front door of the lodge didn't just open—it blew inward in a deafening concussive blast of splintered timber and flying metal.
"Get down!" Roman roared, moving with blinding speed. He grabbed Ethan by the collar and threw him behind a heavy, steel-reinforced oak sideboard, simultaneously drawing a compact submachine gun from a hidden holster beneath his sweater.
"Stay here!" Roman barked at Claire before diving behind a stone pillar as a hail of automatic gunfire razed the room, shattering the windows and chewing up the wooden furniture.
Glass exploded inward in a glittering cascade. Black-clad operatives, wearing tactical body armor and thermal helmets, swarmed through the shattered front entrance and broken windows.
Claire dropped to her knees, crawling frantically behind the heavy dining table as bullets zipped overhead with terrifying velocity. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped animal. This wasn't a mob hit; this was a military-grade extraction team. Apex Bio-Tech had come to clean house.
"Dad! They're coming!" Ethan screamed from behind the sideboard.
"Hold your position!" Roman shouted back, firing a controlled, three-round burst.
Two of the tactical operatives dropped instantly, their armor failing against the heavy armor-piercing rounds. But four more poured through the breach, suppressing fire with blinding intensity.
One of the operatives breached the inner perimeter, his assault rifle leveled directly at the sideboard where Ethan was hidden.
Claire didn't think. Training, fear, and logic all evaporated in a single microsecond of pure maternal instinct.
She lunged from behind the dining table, grabbing a heavy brass candelabra off the sideboard and swinging it with all her remaining strength directly into the side of the operative's helmet.
The heavy metal connected with a sickening clang. The operative staggered sideways, losing his balance.
Roman didn't hesitate. A single, suppressed shot rang out, and the operative collapsed.
Before Claire could even catch her breath, a second operative rounded the corner, his pistol raised directly toward her chest.
Claire froze, staring down the barrel of the gun.
Bang.
The operative's chest exploded in a red bloom of fabric and blood as Roman's round caught him dead center. The man crumpled to the floor, motionless.
Silence descended on the room as quickly as the violence had begun. Only the hiss of smoke from the shattered windows and the heavy breathing of the survivors broke the quiet.
Roman lowered his weapon, stepping over the debris. He rushed to the sideboard, pulling Ethan out and checking him over frantically.
"Are you hit? Talk to me, Ethan."
"I'm okay, Dad. I'm okay," the boy sobbed, burying his face in Roman's chest.
Roman pulled his son tight, then turned his head slowly, looking across the room at Claire. She was sitting on the hardwood floor, her hands trembling violently, staring at the blood staining the hem of her jacket.
Roman walked over, knelt down in front of her, and gently grabbed her shoulders.
"You saved him again," Roman said, his voice thick with an emotion he rarely allowed to surface.
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"I... I had to," Claire whispered, tears finally breaking free and tracking down her dust-covered cheeks. "They wouldn't have stopped."
"No," Roman said grimly, standing up and extending a strong, calloused hand toward her. "They wouldn't have. Which means the game is over. We take the fight to them."
