Chapter 2 - The Breach at Laurel Crest
CRASH!
The heavy iron gate sheared off its concrete hinges with a deafening screech of tearing metal and shattering safety glass. The F-150 shuddered, its front grill crumpled, but the heavy V8 engine roared without skipping a beat as Richard plowed onto the long, winding brick driveway.
He spun the wheel, sending the truck sliding across the manicured lawn, coming to a dead stop diagonally across the front entrance of the stone mansion, blocking any potential escape vehicle.
Richard kicked his door open, stepping out into the crisp, sunlit afternoon.
The estate was eerily quiet. The songbirds were still chirping in the pristine dogwood trees. The fountains were splashing gently in the courtyard. To any passerby, it was a picture of suburban paradise.
Richard didn't waste time on the front door. He knew Ethan’s smart-home setup had automatic magnetic locks that would engage the moment the gate was breached.
He sprinted around the perimeter of the mansion, his tactical boots digging into the damp soil. He reached the rear patio—a massive marble terrace with floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading into the main living room.
Through the glass, Richard saw the scene that would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.
The living room was in shambles. A heavy glass coffee table had been flipped over, shattered into a thousand glittering shards. A brass floor lamp lay bent across a leather sofa.
And near the kitchen archway, Emily was on the floor.
She was curled into a defensive fetal position, holding her arm against her ribs. Her blonde hair was matted with sweat and blood from a small cut near her hairline.
Standing over her was Ethan Caldwell.
Ethan was wearing a pristine cashmere sweater, but his face was flushed red with rage. In his right hand, he held a heavy, solid-brass fireplace poker.
"Get up!" Ethan was shouting, his voice muffled by the thick double-paned glass. "Get up and fix this, you stupid bitch! You think your wash-out father is going to save you?!"
Ethan raised the brass poker.
Every instinct in Richard’s body detonated.
He didn't pull his firearm; firing through double-paned tempered glass ran the risk of a ricochet hitting Emily. Instead, Richard pulled the heavy steel glass-breaker from his belt, leaped onto the patio table, and drove the hardened tungsten tip directly into the corner of the glass door.
BOOM!
The tempered glass fractured into millions of spider-web cracks. Richard kicked the center of the door with his heavy combat boot.
The glass wall collapsed inward with a thunderous roar.
Ethan spun around, dropping the poker in pure shock as a whirlwind of dust, glass, and raw military fury burst into his living room.
Richard stepped through the frame, his boots crunching on glass, his eyes locked onto Ethan Caldwell like targeting lasers.
"Step away from my daughter," Richard said. The tone was soft, icy, and deadlier than a loaded rifle.
Ethan quickly recovered his composure, a twisted, sneering smile spreading across his face. He picked up the brass poker again, holding it like a baseball bat.
"Well, well. The old soldier broke into my house," Ethan sneered, taking a step toward Richard. "You just committed a federal crime, old man. Breaking and entering. Destruction of private property. I’m going to ruin you. I’m going to take everything you own—"
Ethan never finished the sentence.
Richard closed the eight-foot gap between them in half a second.
Before Ethan could swing the brass poker, Richard’s left hand shot out like an iron vise, grabbing Ethan’s throat and crushing his airway. With his right hand, Richard struck the nerve center inside Ethan’s wrist, causing the brass poker to clatter harmlessly onto the tile.
In one fluid, violent motion, Richard pivoted, drove his knee into Ethan’s midsection, and slammed the arrogant CEO face-first into the cold marble floor.
May you like
Ethan gasped for air, groaning as Richard pinned his arm behind his back with a standard military restraint hold, pressing his knee firmly into the small of Ethan’s back.
"You speak to her again," Richard whispered directly into Ethan’s ear, "and you won't survive to see your trial."
