Chapter 5 - The Siege of Sanctuary
The drive back to the suburbs was a blur of high-speed maneuvers and desperate phone calls. Ryan pushed their SUV to its absolute limit, weaving through afternoon traffic while trying to contact the security team he had stationed at the house.
Nothing but static answered.
“Martha! Answer the phone, please, Martha!” Clara screamed into her cell phone, tears finally breaking through her resolve.
When they finally tore around the corner of their street, Clara’s heart stopped. A delivery van was parked crookedly across their driveway. The front door of their beautiful house was wide open.
Ryan didn't even wait for the vehicle to come to a complete stop. He drew a legal, licensed firearm from his ankle holster—a precaution he had taken since the threats began—and sprinted toward the house. “Clara, stay in the car!”
“No way in hell!” she shouted, grabbing a heavy iron tire iron from the back seat and following him. She was a mother; she would die before she let anyone touch Sophie and Lucas.
Inside, the house was in shambles. The kitchen counter where Ryan had placed the coffee mugs the morning before was shattered. But there was no smoke. No fire.
Instead, they heard a muffled sound from the basement.
Ryan moved like a shadow, descending the stairs with Clara right behind him. In the center of the basement, tied to chairs but otherwise unharmed, were Aunt Martha and two of the private security guards Ryan had hired.
“They went upstairs!” Martha cried through her gag as soon as Ryan pulled it off. “Two men! They have a specialized medical kit!”
Clara didn't wait for Ryan. She flew back up the stairs, her feet moving on pure adrenaline. She burst into the nursery.
Two men in sterile white lab coats were standing over the cribs. One of them held a small swab kit, trying to get a saliva sample from a crying Sophie, while the other was attempting to lift Lucas, who was screaming at the top of his tiny lungs.
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“Get away from my children!” Clara roared.
The man holding Lucas turned, surprised, but he wasn't prepared for the sheer, unadulterated fury of a mother. Clara swung the tire iron with everything she had, catching him squarely across the shoulder. He dropped Lucas back into the safe padding of the crib with a grunt of pain, stumbling backward.
