Chapter 18
The freezing wind howled fiercely, masking the slight creak of the cabin floorboards as Maren shifted her weight. She pressed the stock of the heavy, rusted hunting rifle tightly against her shoulder, peering through the cracked glass of the window. She could clearly see the silhouette of her husband being marched toward the front door by Richard Vance, the traitor’s revolver pressed firmly against Everett’s head. The surviving mercenary trailed a few paces behind them, scanning the tree line.
"I am terrified, Sloane," Maren whispered, a single tear freezing on her cheek.
"Don't look at his face," Sloane advised quietly from the floor, the laptop screen now dark to conceal their position. "Look at the center of his chest. You only have one shot. Make it count."
Maren took a deep, shuddering breath, holding the air in her lungs to completely steady her shaking hands. She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, picturing Bennett’s terrified face, and then opened them with a fierce, maternal resolve. She aimed slightly to the right of Everett, targeting the mercenary trailing behind them, knowing Vance would instantly kill her husband if he was directly provoked first.
She pulled the heavy trigger.
The roar of the hunting rifle was incredibly deafening, shattering the remaining glass in the cabin window. A massive burst of orange flame erupted from the barrel in the dark.
The ancient bullet missed the mercenary’s chest, but the concussive blast and the shower of splintering wood from the porch railing sent him diving frantically into the snow for cover.
Vance flinched violently at the unexpected explosion, his aim faltering for a crucial, split second.
Everett didn't waste the miraculous opportunity his wife had just given him. He violently threw his elbow backward, connecting directly with Vance’s already broken collarbone. The traitor screamed in immense agony, dropping the revolver into the snow.
Everett spun around, tackling Vance to the frozen ground. The two men rolled through the icy snow, trading brutal, desperate punches. Everett was fueled by pure, unadulterated rage. He straddled Vance, pinning the man’s good arm to the ground with his knee, and delivered a devastating right hook to Vance’s jaw. The traitor’s head snapped back against the frozen earth, and his body went entirely limp, knocked completely unconscious.
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Everett scrambled to his feet, grabbing the discarded revolver just as the remaining mercenary attempted to stand up.
"Don't even breathe!" Everett roared, pointing the weapon directly at the mercenary’s chest. The man looked at his unconscious boss, looked at the heavy gun in Everett’s hand, and slowly raised his arms in total surrender.
