Chapter 8 - The War for Mia
The plastic zip-tie snapped with a tiny pop.
Willow felt the tension give way behind her back. Blood rushed back into her numb hands, but she kept them folded behind her, staring blankly at the floor, waiting for the right second.
Outside the cabin, the wind roared through the pines.
Suddenly, the lights powered by a loud generator outside flickered and died.
The two guards in the cabin cursed, reaching for their flashlights.
THUD.
A quiet, wet sound echoed from outside the wooden door. Then another.
The guards froze, raising their rifles toward the front entrance. "Frank? Is that you?"
The heavy oak door didn't just open—it blew inward off its hinges with a deafening crash, striking one of the guards and sending him crashing into the wall.
Through the dust and splintered wood walked Josiah.
He looked like death incarnate. His coat was torn, blood splashed across his cheek, his dark eyes burning with an unholy, terrifying rage. In his right hand, he held a heavy tactical pistol; in his left, absolute destruction.
The second guard raised his rifle, but Josiah was faster. A single, thunderous shot echoed in the cabin, and the guard collapsed to the floor.
"Father!" Mia shrieked.
Josiah dropped his weapon, dropping to his knees, and pulled Mia into his massive arms, clutching her so tightly his knuckles turned white. "I've got you. I've got you, baby. I'm here."
He raised his eyes, looking over Mia’s shoulder at Willow.
Willow stood up, rubbing her bloodied wrists, giving him a weak, defiant smile. "You took your time."
Josiah let out a breath that sounded like a sob, reaching out with one broad hand to grab her neck, pulling her forehead down against his. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"
"I'm okay," Willow breathed. "Marco... Marco left for the docks twenty minutes ago. It’s a trap, Josiah!"
Josiah’s face hardened, the warmth vanishing in an instant. "I know. My men are already clearing the docks."
Before he could stand up, the cabin’s wooden floorboards creaked violently from behind the back room.
Marco Moretti hadn't left. He had stepped back into the shadows to ambush them.
Marco stepped into the doorway, holding a sawed-off shotgun aimed directly at Josiah’s unprotected back. "Goodbye, Josiah."
May you like
"NO!" Willow screamed.
She shoved Josiah with all her weight, throwing herself in front of him just as Marco pulled the trigger.
