Chapter 9 - The Mother’s Fury
Liana’s mind raced wildly. The steel door was thick, but a specialized thermite charge could melt the lock mechanism within minutes, turning the panic room into a deadly trap.
She looked around the room frantically. On a stainless-steel medical table near the back wall lay Dr. Harrison’s emergency surgical kit, along with a heavy tactical stun baton and a canister of high-grade police pepper spray kept in the vault’s emergency supply cabinet.
She didn't have guns. She didn't have armor. But she had something far more dangerous: the fierce, untamed instinct of a mother who had already grieved her child once and would tear the world apart before letting anyone touch her again.
Liana tucked Clara safely inside a cushioned, reinforced storage locker lined with heavy velvet, leaving the lid cracked slightly for ventilation.
“Stay quiet, my sweet girl,” Liana whispered, kissing Clara’s forehead. “Mommy will be right back.”
Liana grabbed the canister of industrial pepper spray in her right hand and picked up a heavy stainless-steel scalpel from the medical tray in her left. She moved to the side of the vault door, positioning herself in the blind spot right behind where the door would swing open.
On the radio speaker, Julian began counting down: “Five... four... three...”
Instead of waiting for them to detonate the thermite charges, Liana hit the manual door release button on the wall.
The heavy hydraulic bolts disengaged with a loud WHOOSH.
The outer security guards, expecting a surrender, pushed the door open cautiously.
The moment the first gunman stepped over the threshold, Liana struck like a shadow.
She sprayed the entire canister of high-pressure pepper spray directly into the guard’s face under his tactical visor. The man screamed out in blinding agony, stumbling backward into his teammate.
Liana didn't hesitate. She slammed her body weight into the door, pushing it against the second guard, trapping his arm in the steel frame. She raised the heavy stun baton she had grabbed off the table and jammed it against his neck, unleashing a surge of fifty thousand volts of electricity. The man crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Julian Moretti stepped back in utter shock, pulling a silver pistol from his suit jacket. “You crazy bitch—!”
Before Julian could raise his weapon, a heavy shadow materialized down the corridor behind him.
May you like
Matteo Varric stepped out of the darkness, blood streaming from a cut on his temple, his eyes burning with lethal fury. He grabbed Julian’s arm, twisting it upward until the silver pistol clattered to the concrete floor, and slammed the elder Moretti face-first into the concrete wall.
“It’s over, Julian,” Matteo snarled into his ear, pressing the barrel of his sidearm against the back of Julian’s neck. “My men have secured the estate. Your tactical team is dead or in cuffs. You lost.”
