Chapter 3 - THE AMBUSH AT WILLOW CREEK
Before Mateo could connect the drive to his laptop, the radio on Viktor’s tactical vest burst with static.
"Boss! We've got perimeter sensors tripping along the north fence!" our outer scout called out over the radio. "Three... no, four dark SUVs turning off the main road! No lights on!"
"They came back," Viktor said, instantly pulling his assault rifle into his shoulder and stepping away from the window.
"They didn't just come back," Mateo said, checking his tactical tablet monitor. "Vance knows Dalton failed. He sent Moretti's hit squad from Nashville. They're surrounding the house."
Outside, the rain poured down hard, rattling the roof. The woods surrounding the old Willow Creek house were suddenly filled with the dark silhouettes of armed men moving through the trees.
Elena ran back toward the fireplace, wrapping his arms around Caleb and Rosie. The younger children were crying now, terrified by the sudden tension in the room.
I walked over to the stone fireplace, reached up into the dark mantle, and pulled a hidden iron lever.
With a heavy, scraping groan, the old wooden bookshelf beside the hearth swung open, revealing a hidden stairwell leading down into the dark foundation of the house.
Elena gasped. "A secret room?"
"My father built this house during the coal strikes of the 1970s," I said, grabbing a tactical flashlight and handing it to Elena. "There is a reinforced concrete root cellar under this house. It has steel doors, emergency rations, and a secondary exit that leads out to the creek five hundred yards away."
I knelt down in front of Elena, taking his small hands in mine.
"Take Caleb and Rosie down there," I said, staring directly into his dark eyes. "Lock the iron latch from the inside. Do not open that door for anyone unless you hear my voice saying 'Willow Creek'. Do you understand me?"
Elena looked at the dark stairs, then back at me. Tears filled his eyes, but he wiped them away furiously with his sleeve. "Are you going to die up here?"
I offered him a faint, dangerous smile—the smile of a predator stepping into his natural habitat.
"Elena," I said softly. "This is my house. They made a mistake coming here."
Elena nodded bravely, guiding Caleb and Rosie down the narrow stone stairs. I pulled the heavy bookshelf back into place, hearing the iron lock click shut.
I turned back to Viktor and Mateo.
"Rules of engagement, Boss?" Viktor asked, checking his chambered round.
"None," I said, pulling two tactical handguns from the gun rack near the door. "Nobody leaves this yard alive."
The front windows exploded inward in a shower of glass and iron framing.
Flashbang grenades bounced across the hardwood floor, exploding in blinding white light and deafening thunder. But Viktor and Mateo were already behind reinforced cover, returning disciplined, lethal fire.
THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD.
The heavy 7.62 rounds from Viktor's rifle tore through the wooden walls, dropping two masked attackers on the front porch before they could step through the door.
I moved through the smoke like a shadow. I stepped out through the broken side window onto the rainy porch, coming up behind two Moretti hitmen who were firing into the living room.
BANG. BANG.
Two shots. Two drops.
The night echoed with gunfire, thunder, and the heavy crash of boots on muddy gravel. Moretti’s men had expected to find a retired, soft developer protecting a couple of orphans. Instead, they had walked into a fortified kill zone manned by the most lethal mob boss in the region.
Within seven minutes, the gunfire died down.
The rainy front yard was littered with broken glass, spent shell casings, and six motionless bodies dressed in tactical gear.
Mateo stepped out onto the porch, wiping blood from a minor cut on his forehead. "Perimeter clear, Boss. But we traced their comms. Marcus Vance is currently at his private estate in West Knoxville, waiting for confirmation of your death."
I stood in the pouring rain, looking down at the crest pinned to the vest of one of the fallen gunmen—the crest of the Moretti crime family.
"Viktor," I said, turning toward my captain. "Bring the armored SUV to the front. We are driving to Knoxville."
"And the children, Boss?" Viktor asked.
I walked back into the silent, bullet-ridden living room, approached the bookshelf, and tapped three times on the stone wall.
"Willow Creek," I said clearly.
The iron latch clicked, and the bookshelf swung open. Elena emerged first, holding a heavy iron pipe he had found downstairs, his body positioned protectively in front of Caleb and Rosie.
When he saw me standing there unharmed, his shoulders collapsed, and he let out a long, ragged breath. The iron pipe fell from his hands, clattering against the floor.
I knelt down, opening my arms.
May you like
Elena didn't hesitate. He ran forward and threw his arms around my neck, sobbing softly against my wool coat. I wrapped my heavy arms around the twelve-year-old boy, holding him tight while Caleb and Rosie hugged my legs.
"It's over, Elena," I whispered into his hair. "Nobody is ever going to hunt you again."
