Chapter 6 - A Father’s Last Stand
Time slowed down to a agonizing crawl.
To Adrian, the sound of the crackling fire alarms faded away. The smell of smoke vanished. The world condensed into a single image: his five-year-old daughter, stretching out her tiny hand to him, begging for protection.
She asked to hold my hand just once.
I swore I would never let her draw a man with no face again.
A violent shock wave of sheer, unadulterated willpower surged through Adrian’s nervous system. It was as if his very soul refused to allow his body to die. Pushing past the threshold of human agony, defying the physiological shutdown of his failing heart, Adrian Moretti moved.
He didn't stand. He lunged from the floor like a wounded predator.
With a primal scream that tore from his throat, Adrian slammed his entire body into Volkov’s knees from behind.
The massive Russian lost his balance, stumbling forward. Lily slipped from his grip, falling onto the soft hallway runner rug.
"Run! Sarah, take her!" Adrian roared, wrapping both arms around Volkov’s waist and slamming him into the hallway wall.
Sarah didn't hesitate. She grabbed Lily off the floor, burst through the bedroom door, and bolted toward the fire escape.
"You miserable bastard!" Volkov snarled, smashing the butt of his heavy pistol into the back of Adrian's wounded shoulder.
The pain was blinding. Adrian’s stitches ripped entirely open, blood soaking through his black suit coat instantly. But Adrian didn't let go. He locked his fingers together around Volkov’s waist, driving him backward into the living room, crashing through the wooden dining table.
The two men crashed into the debris. Volkov, younger and uninjured, quickly gained the upper hand, mounting Adrian and wrapping his heavy, leather-gloved hands tightly around Adrian's throat.
"Die already, Moretti!" Volkov spat, applying immense pressure to Adrian's windpipe. "Your empire is mine!"
Adrian choked for air. His vision filled with red. His heart gave a sickly, heavy shudder in his chest, missing three beats in a row. Oxygen deprivation was setting in fast.
His hands clawed at Volkov’s wrists, but the Russian’s grip was absolute.
I can't die here, Adrian thought, his mind racing. I haven't taken her to the park. I haven't seen her grow up.
Feeling around in the wreckage of the shattered dining table with his right hand, Adrian's fingers brushed against a piece of heavy, jagged mahogany wood from the broken table leg.
Summoning every remaining ounce of strength in his failing body, Adrian raised the sharp wood stake and drove it upward, plunging it directly into the side of Volkov’s neck.
Volkov gasped, his eyes widening in shock. Blood spurted from his throat, spilling over Adrian’s face. The Russian’s grip on Adrian's neck loosened instantly as he clutched at his throat, gurgling in agony.
Adrian kicked Volkov off him. The Russian mafia boss tumbled onto his back, thrashing violently on the carpet before going completely still in a pool of his own blood.
Adrian lay on his back, staring up at the water-damaged ceiling tiles. He couldn't feel his legs. His pulse was faint, fluttering like a trapped butterfly inside his chest.
Thump... thump... silence.
"Boss! Boss, stay with me!"
Vincent, bleeding from a deep head wound, crawled over to Adrian, grabbing his shoulder.
"We did it... the perimeter team took out the remaining Russians outside," Vincent stammered, pulling a portable medical defibrillator from his tactical pouch. "Hold on, Adrian! Don't you dare die on me now!"
"Sarah... Lily..." Adrian whispered, his lips turning blue.
"They're safe! They're in the armored car down below!" Vincent shouted, placing the automated defibrillator pads on Adrian's bare chest.
The machine beeped loudly: CHARGING... STAND CLEAR.
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SHOCK DELIVERED.
Adrian’s body convulsed violently as thousands of volts of electricity surged through his heart, resetting its rhythm. He gasped, sucking a massive lungful of air back into his chest, his eyes flying open.
