Chapter 36 - The Silent Alarms
Outside the Harper estate, Nathan's SUV tore through the wrought-iron gates, the tires shredding the manicured lawn as he bypassed the foam-covered driveway.
He slammed the brakes, the vehicle skidding to a halt near the rear entrance of the mansion.
The heavy kitchen doors were blown open, thick white tear gas billowing out into the rain.
Nathan grabbed the suppressed pistol he had taken from Arthur at the pier and sprinted toward the breach. He wasn't a soldier; he was a father. And that made him entirely fearless.
As he stepped into the ruined kitchen, the sound of automatic gunfire echoed from the second floor.
"Ethan!" Nathan screamed, the terror finally breaking through his resolve.
He charged through the smoke, completely ignoring tactical caution, sprinting toward the grand staircase.
Upstairs, the mercenary leader kicked the remnants of Ethan's bedroom door open. He swept the room with his assault rifle, the laser sight cutting through the darkness.
He saw Ethan huddled under the heavy steel desk.
The mercenary raised his weapon, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"Hey!" a voice roared from the hallway.
The mercenary spun around.
Nathan stood at the top of the stairs, his chest heaving, the suppressed pistol raised in a two-handed grip.
He didn't hesitate. Nathan fired three times.
Two bullets struck the mercenary's heavy ceramic body armor, knocking him backward, but the third caught him squarely in the unprotected gap of his shoulder.
The mercenary grunted, dropping his rifle, and collapsed against the wall, clutching his bleeding wound.
Nathan didn't wait to see if he got back up. He sprinted into the bedroom, grabbing Ethan by the arm and dragging him out from under the desk.
"Are you okay?" Nathan asked frantically, checking his son for bullet wounds.
"I'm fine, Dad. I'm fine," Ethan gasped, clinging to his father. "Mom and Emily are in the panic room. They're safe."
Before Nathan could reply, the sound of heavy boots echoed from the front porch. The primary force of mercenaries had finally cleared the foam and blown the heavy front doors open.
Six heavily armed men poured into the foyer, their flashlights cutting through the smoke.
Nathan and Ethan were trapped on the second floor. The single pistol Nathan held was useless against six assault rifles.
"Dad," Ethan whispered, his eyes wide with fear. "They're inside."
Nathan pulled Ethan behind the heavy plaster wall of the hallway, raising the pistol, preparing for a final, desperate stand.
Suddenly, the sound of helicopter rotors battered the roof of the mansion.
Blinding spotlights pierced through the shattered windows, illuminating the foyer in harsh, brilliant white light.
"FBI! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"
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The voice wasn't coming from a megaphone. It was Agent Sarah Collins, leading a massive, heavily armored SWAT team pouring through the shattered front doors, the rear kitchen entrance, and fast-roping from the helicopter onto the roof.
The cavalry had arrived.
