Chapter 5 - THE FINAL BATTLE FOR FAMILY
Moving with the lethal speed of a man protecting everything he lived for, I lunged forward.
Before the lead mercenary could raise his weapon, I grabbed the barrel of his submachine gun, twisting it violently upward. A burst of gunfire tore into the plaster ceiling as I brought my sidearm up, firing two quick shots into his tactical vest, dropping him to the marble floor.
"Kill him!" Julian shrieked, ducking behind a marble pillar.
The second mercenary spun around, raising his rifle. I rolled across the hardwood floor behind the grand piano just as a hail of bullets shattered the glass coffee table into thousands of glittering shards.
Plaster dust and smoke filled the air. My shoulder burned from the blow, but adrenaline washed away all pain. I brought my weapon up from behind the piano, firing three precise shots that took down the second mercenary.
Suddenly, a terrifying scream echoed from the nursery hallway.
"Vincent!"
I looked up through the smoke. The third mercenary had reached the nursery door and kicked it open. He dragged Sloan out into the hallway by her arm. Sloan fought like a lioness, scratching and biting his face, while holding Willa tightly against her chest with her other arm.
"Let her go!" I roared, stepping out from behind the piano, my gun aimed straight at the mercenary’s head.
"Drop the gun, Blackwood!" the mercenary yelled, pulling Sloan in front of him as a human shield, pressing his handgun against her temple. "Drop it or I end her right now!"
I froze. My hands trembled as I aimed my weapon, but I couldn't risk a shot with Sloan so close to the barrel.
Julian stepped out from behind the pillar, a sickening, triumphant laugh escaping his throat. He walked over, taking the handgun from the mercenary and pointing it directly at my heart.
"Look at you, Vincent," Julian mocked, his eyes wide with unhinged malice. "The great Vincent Blackwood, brought down to his knees by a woman and a screaming brat. You should have stayed in London. You should have let her rot alone."
Sloan looked at me through her tears, her green eyes fierce and unwavering. "I love you, Vincent," she whispered, accepting what she thought was the end. "Save Willa."
"No..." I rasped, my heart breaking into a million pieces. "Julian, take me. Shoot me! Just let them walk!"
"Oh, I'm going to shoot you, Vincent," Julian sneered, raising his arm, his finger tightening on the trigger. "But I'm going to make you watch them die first—"
BANG!
A deafening shot echoed through the penthouse—but it didn't come from Julian’s gun.
Sloan had reached into her cardigan pocket, pulling out the small, heavy silver letter opener I always kept on the nursery desk, and plunged it with all her strength directly into the third mercenary’s thigh.
The mercenary screamed in agony, loosening his grip on her.
In that split second of distraction, I didn't hesitate. I raised my weapon and fired two shots.
The first bullet struck Julian’s hand, sending his gun flying across the floor. The second bullet struck his shoulder, slamming him hard against the wall. He collapsed onto the floor, groaning in pain, completely disarmed.
Before the third mercenary could recover from his thigh wound, the heavy reinforced glass doors of the private balcony shattered inward. Marcus and six heavily armed tactical guards rappelled down from a police helicopter hovering above the penthouse, swarming the living room and pinning the mercenaries to the floor in seconds.
"Clear! Area secure!" Marcus bellowed, securing Julian in heavy steel handcuffs.
The room fell quiet, save for the hum of the helicopter outside.
I dropped my weapon onto the carpet, my chest heaving, and ran toward Sloan. She collapsed onto her knees on the rug, holding Willa, who was crying loudly.
I fell to my knees beside them, wrapping my arms fiercely around both of them, pulling them close against my chest. I buried my face in Sloan’s hair, sobbing openly as I held my wife and daughter.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" I checked every inch of Sloan’s face, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips frantically. "Did he touch you?"
"We're okay, Vincent... we're okay," Sloan cried, resting her forehead against mine, her hand reaching up to hold my face. "You saved us. You came for us."
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"Always," I whispered, pulling my tiny crying daughter into the embrace, resting my cheek against her soft dark hair. "I will always come for you."
Julian was dragged away by federal agents, his face pale, facing a lifetime in maximum security prison without any possibility of bail. The nightmare was finally, permanently over.
