Chapter 27
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I moved silently through the dark interior of the sanctuary, navigating the familiar hallways with absolute precision. The power had been cut to the east wing to eliminate any tactical advantage for the intruder. The only illumination came from the violent, strobe-like flashes of lightning illuminating the rain-lashed windows.
I positioned myself behind the heavy butcher-block island in the center of the industrial kitchen, perfectly concealed in the deep shadows.
Outside, the heavy footsteps of Marcus Thorne stomped onto the wooden planks of the wraparound porch. I heard him curse loudly as he struggled with the locked handle of the French doors.
A moment later, a deafening crack shattered the silence as Thorne fired a round directly into the locking mechanism of the glass door. The reinforced glass spider-webbed, but it didn't completely shatter. Frustrated, Thorne kicked the door violently with his heavy boot, the damaged frame finally giving way.
The door crashed open, letting the howling wind and the freezing rain tear into the sanctuary kitchen.
Thorne stepped inside, his pistol raised, sweeping the dark room frantically. He was breathing heavily, a ragged, desperate sound of a predator who realized he was finally out of time.
"Nora!" Thorne yelled, his voice cracking with unhinged fury. "Where are you hiding?!"
He took three steps into the kitchen, his back completely exposed to the darkness.
"Drop the weapon, Thorne," I commanded, my voice cold, deep, and echoing with absolute, unyielding authority.
Thorne spun around wildly, aiming his pistol toward the sound of my voice. The moment he faced the island, a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the room, revealing me standing tall, the heavy barrel of my twelve-gauge shotgun leveled directly at his chest.
Thorne froze, his eyes widening in sudden, terrifying realization. He wasn't facing a terrified wife anymore. He was facing a man who had built a fortress to stop monsters exactly like him.
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"You must be Connor," Thorne sneered, a desperate, arrogant smirk pulling at his bleeding lips. "You think you're a hero, hiding behind a shotgun? She is my wife. She belongs to me."
"She belongs to herself," I corrected, my finger tightening marginally on the trigger. "And you are currently trespassing in my home with a loaded weapon. I will give you exactly one warning. Drop the gun, or I will put you through the wall."
