Chapter 3 - The First Breach
The strike came on a Tuesday, during a torrential summer thunderstorm that masked the sound of approaching vehicles. The power to the county grid went dead at 2:00 AM. Dominic was awake instantly, his hand pinning Megan to the mattress while his eyes scanned the window.
"Thermal signatures in the southern orchard," he whispered, pulling on his boots. "Three men. Moving in a tactical wedge. They bypassed the tripwires."
"They have military training," Megan said, throwing off the covers and reaching for her weapon. She ran to Clara’s crib, lifting the sleeping infant and moving her into the reinforced panic closet they had built behind the linen shelves—a space lined with ballistic steel. "Stay quiet, sweet girl," she whispered, kissing the baby’s forehead before locking the heavy door.
The farmhouse became a theater of shadows. Dominic moved like a ghost through the downstairs hallway. The front door didn't burst open; instead, the kitchen window shattered inwardly as a flashbang grenade was tossed into the room.
Dominic anticipated the move. He dropped behind the soapstone island, his weapon firing three precise shots through the smoke. A heavy body thudded against the hardwood floor.
Upstairs, Megan watched the balcony door. A shadow appeared against the glass, a suppressed submachine gun raised. She didn't hesitate. She fired through the wood, the recoil vibrating up her arms. A groan echoed from the balcony, followed by the sound of a body tumbling over the railing into the rose bushes below.
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The third intruder managed to reach the living room, catching Dominic in a brutal hand-to-hand struggle. The man was a professional assassin, twice Dominic’s speed, utilizing a ceramic combat knife. The blade sliced through Dominic’s denim shirt, drawing a long line of crimson across his chest. But Dominic’s brute strength and raw fury prevailed; he slammed the man against the stone fireplace, breaking his neck with a sickening crack.
When the storm passed, three dead men lay on the property. Dominic stood in the kitchen, bleeding, his chest heaving, looking at the destruction of their sanctuary.
