Chapter 17 - The Race Home|
We sprinted out of the harbormaster's office, leaving Lucien's body behind. The distant firefight with Viktor’s men was still raging, but it felt entirely irrelevant now. My only thought was the estate. My only thought was Emma and Clara.
"Driver, get the SUV. Now!" I screamed into my radio as we piled out into the foggy docks.
The tires squealed as the armored vehicle tore up to our position. We jumped in, and the driver floored the accelerator, tearing through the industrial district at reckless speeds.
I dialed the estate's emergency line. It rang endlessly.
"They've jammed the communications," Marcus said, frantically typing on his tablet. "I can't reach the perimeter guards. The security feed is totally dark."
"How long until we reach the gates?" I demanded, my hands shaking with a terrifying, helpless rage.
"Twenty minutes at this speed. Boss, the estate has panic rooms. Clara knows the protocols. She will keep Emma safe."
"They have military-grade explosives, Marcus! A panic room won't hold indefinitely against breaching charges." I leaned forward, staring at the winding mountain road ahead. "Faster. Push the engine to the limit."
The drive felt like an eternity. Every passing second was a drop of poison in my veins. The thought of losing Emma—the last piece of my brother—and Clara, the woman who had brought light back into my life, was unbearable.
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As we rounded the final switchback, the estate came into view. Smoke billowed from the west wing. The heavy iron gates had been blown completely off their hinges, lying twisted on the gravel driveway.
"We go in hard," I told my men, racking the slide of my rifle. The wolf tattoo on my forearm seemed to burn against my skin. "No prisoners. No mercy. We kill every single one of them."
