Chapter 5 - THE SIEGE“Put her down, Viktor,” Damian’s voice was a low, lethal growl that vibrated through the floorboards.
Viktor froze, tightening his grip on Ellie’s collar. The child whimpered, her tiny hands clutching at the air. “Ah, the great Damian Cross! Come to save your little pets? Step back, Damian, or I put a nine-millimeter hole through this brat’s skull right now.”
Damian’s finger rested on the trigger of his Sig Sauer, but his eyes calculated the distance—six feet, poor lighting, a hostage shield. One wrong move and Ellie paid the price.
“You want me, Viktor,” Damian said, slowly lowering his weapon and letting it slide out of his hand onto the rug. “Let the child go. Take me instead.”
Viktor chuckled, tightening his arm around Ellie. “Touchting. Truly touching. But I think I’ll take—Argh!”
Viktor’s boast was cut short as a small, sharp set of teeth sank deep into the fleshy part of his wrist. Ellie had twisted her body with surprising flexibility and bitten down with all her three-year-old strength.
“Ow! You little rat!” Viktor cursed, reflexively loosening his grip.
That split-second distraction was all Damian needed. He exploded forward across the room with terrifying speed. Before Viktor could recover, Damian slammed his shoulder into the syndicate operative’s chest, tackling him backward through the open French doors and onto the stone patio.
Glass shattered everywhere. The two men tumbled across the terrace tiles in a brutal, silent struggle for dominance. Viktor drew a combat knife from his boot, slashing wildly in the dark, but Damian blocked the strike with his forearm, feeling the cold steel slice through his sleeve and graze his skin.
Ignoring the pain, Damian delivered a devastating right hook to Viktor’s jaw, followed by a knee to the ribs that echoed like a gunshot in the night. Viktor gasped, his eyes rolling back as he went limp on the cold stone.
Pantining heavily, blood dripping from his arm, Damian didn't waste a second. He turned and raced back into the library.
Hannah was just starting to stir, coughing weakly against the bookshelf. Ellie was crying softly, her little hands covering her face.
When Ellie saw Damian, she scrambled across the floor and threw her arms around his knees, burying her face in his trousers.
“Mr. Cross! You got him!” she sobbed.
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Damian dropped to his knees, gently lifting the child into his arms. He pressed her small head against his shoulder, closing his eyes as a wave of overwhelming relief washed over him. For the first time in his life, Damian Cross realized something terrifying: He had something to lose.
And the war was only just beginning.
