Chapter 7 - The Final Stand at the LakehouseThe chill wind off Lake Michigan whipped through the shattered French doors as Chloe paced the dining room floor. She could hear distant shouting from the gardens—short, sharp commands, the crunch of boots on gravel, and the occasional muffled pop of a silenced pistol.
She couldn't just sit there.
Brutus was back in the medical suite on the ground floor. If Rostova’s men breached the inner perimeter, the dog was completely defenseless in his sedated state.
Ignoring Gabriel’s orders entirely, Chloe sprinted out of the dining room and down the dimly lit corridor toward the veterinary suite.
The emergency red backup lights cast long, eerie shadows across the polished marble floors. As she rounded the corner toward Brutus's room, a heavy shadow detached itself from the doorway.
It was one of Rostova’s mercenaries—a scarred brute in a black tactical vest holding a heavy knife.
"Well, well," the man rasped, grinning evilly. "The boss’s new pet."
Chloe froze. Her eyes darted frantically around the hallway. Her gaze landed on a heavy, stainless-steel medical oxygen tank sitting on a rolling cart beside her.
As the brute lunged forward, grabbing for her arm, Chloe threw all her weight against the cart, slamming the heavy steel cylinder directly into his kneecap with a sickening crunch.
The man roared in agony, stumbling backward.
Chloe didn't hesitate. She grabbed a heavy glass jar of surgical clamps from the nearby tray and smashed it across the back of his helmet. He collapsed to the floor like a felled tree, completely unconscious.
"Don't ever mess with a veterinarian on no sleep," Chloe panted, her hands shaking violently as she stepped over him and rushed into the medical room.
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Brutus was awake, his yellow eyes blinking heavily, letting out a low, protective growl as she burst through the door.
"It's just me, big guy," she whispered, falling to her knees beside his stainless-steel bed and wrapping her arms around his massive neck. "We're going to be okay."
