Chapter 8 - The Shattered GlassThe concussive wave of the blast knocked Evelyn off her feet.
She hit the hardwood floor hard, her ears ringing with a high-pitched whine. Thick gray smoke poured into the living room, a terrifyingly familiar sight, but this time, it was followed by the heavy, rhythmic thud of tactical boots.
Three men stepped through the ruined doorway. They were dressed in nondescript black tactical gear, their faces obscured by ski masks, carrying suppressed submachine guns. They moved with military precision, sweeping the room in silence.
Noah.
Evelyn scrambled to her feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in her shoulder, and sprinted toward the master bedroom.
"Noah!" she screamed, slamming the bedroom door shut behind her and throwing her body weight against it. She engaged the deadbolt, knowing it would only buy them seconds.
Noah was sitting up in bed, his eyes wide with sheer terror. "Evelyn! What was that?"
"We have to go!" Evelyn yelled, grabbing him by the arms and hauling him into the new wheelchair.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The men were kicking the bedroom door. The wood was already beginning to splinter around the frame.
Evelyn looked around frantically. The bedroom had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a massive walk-in closet, and a master bathroom. No exit. They were trapped on the fortieth floor.
"Evelyn, the bathroom!" Noah shouted, pointing to a small, discreet door tucked next to the shower. "The hotel layout! I read it on the tablet! That’s the linen chute and service elevator access!"
Evelyn didn't hesitate. She shoved the wheelchair forward, rushing into the marble-tiled bathroom. She kicked the access door open. It led to a narrow, concrete utility corridor lined with exposed pipes and the glowing button of a service elevator.
CRASH.
The bedroom door gave way.
Evelyn pushed Noah into the utility corridor and slammed the access door shut, locking it from the inside. She hit the elevator button, praying it was on their floor. The digital display above the metal doors read 39. It was close.
A barrage of silenced bullets chewed through the access door, missing Evelyn's head by inches. Marble dust and wood splinters showered over them.
Ding.
The service elevator doors slid open. Evelyn shoved Noah’s chair inside and punched the button for the subterranean parking garage. The doors began to close just as the access door was violently kicked open by one of the masked men.
He raised his weapon, aiming directly at Evelyn's chest.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out—unsuppressed and deafeningly loud.
The masked man jerked forward, a bloom of crimson exploding on his shoulder, and collapsed onto the concrete floor. Standing behind him in the utility corridor was a tall, broad-shouldered man in a leather jacket, holding a smoking Glock 19. He had a jagged scar running down the side of his neck and eyes that looked like they had seen hell and survived it.
He locked eyes with Evelyn just as the elevator doors sealed shut.
"Going down," Elias muttered.
The elevator dropped, plummeting forty stories into the bowels of the building. Evelyn sank to her knees, gasping for air, clutching the armrests of Noah's wheelchair. The boy was shaking violently, but he hadn't made a sound.
May you like
When the doors opened in the dark, damp parking garage, Elias was already there, stepping out of the adjacent stairwell door. He shoved a fresh magazine into his pistol and gestured toward a black, armored SUV idling in the shadows.
"Welcome to the war, Miss Brooks," Elias said grimly. "Get in."
Related Stories
