Chapter 7 - The Guardian's Fury
The black SUV screeched to a halt outside the main entrance of the Vane Manor, spraying gravel across the manicured driveway.
Clara leaped out of the vehicle before it had even come to a complete stop, sprinting up the grand marble steps into the foyer. Miles followed close behind, his gun drawn.
The foyer was eerily quiet. The house guards were missing from their posts.
"Miles!" Clara called out, her heart hammering against her chest with an overwhelming dread. "Check the security room! I'm going to the nursery!"
Clara flew up the grand staircase, taking three steps at a time.
As she reached the second-floor corridor, she heard a high-pitched scream echo from the end of the hall.
Maya!
Clara kicked open the heavy oak doors of the nursery.
The scene inside sent a wave of white-hot, lethal rage through Clara's veins.
Arthur lay motionless on the floor, bleeding from his head. In the center of the room, Victoria was pinning five-year-old Maya against the sofa, her hands wrapped viciously around the small child's throat, trying to suffocate her.
Maya was kicking her small legs weakly, her face turning blue, her eyes wide with terror as she clutched her teddy bear.
"GET OFF HER!" Clara roared.
Clara moved like a storm. She crossed the room in a fraction of a second, grabbed Victoria by her hair, and yanked her backward with terrifying force.
Victoria was thrown off the sofa, crashing heavily into a bookshelf, sending dozens of hardback books tumbling over her body.
Clara instantly swept Maya into her arms, pulling the gasping, weeping child tight against her chest.
"I've got you! I've got you, baby! Breathe!" Clara sobbed, rubbing Maya’s back as the little girl choked, drawing in desperate gulps of air.
"Clara..." Maya whimpered, burying her wet face in Clara's neck, shaking uncontrollably. "Auntie... Auntie tried to make me sleep..."
Victoria scrambled out from beneath the fallen books, her hair wildly tangled, her eyes insane. She snatched a heavy bronze statue from a side table and charged at Clara.
"I'll kill you both!" Victoria screamed.
Clara didn't flinch. She didn't run.
As Victoria swung the heavy bronze statue down toward Clara's head, Clara spun slightly, keeping Maya protected behind her back, and delivered a brutal, precise side-kick directly into Victoria’s ribs.
CRACK!
Victoria let out a sickening gasp as her breath left her body. The statue clattered to the floor as she crumpled onto the rug, clutching her broken ribs, weeping in agony.
Miles burst into the room, gun raised, followed by three loyal security guards. He took in the scene—the unconscious old man, the broken syringe, Victoria writhing on the floor, and Clara holding the trembling child.
"Medical team! Now!" Miles yelled into his radio. He walked over to Victoria, pinning her down with his boot and snapping heavy iron cuffs onto her wrists.
"She tried to murder Arthur and Maya," Clara said, her voice dropping into an icy, lethal register as she looked down at the defeated woman on the floor. "Ensure she is placed in a maximum-security psychiatric hold. No bail. No visitors."
"With pleasure," Miles growled, dragging Victoria to her feet.
Clara dropped to her knees beside Arthur, checking his pulse. "He's alive! He has a strong pulse! Get the paramedics up here!"
Maya leaned over, touching her grandfather's pale cheek with her tiny hand. "Grandfather... wake up... please..."
Arthur stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering open. He looked up at Clara, then at his granddaughter, a faint, weak smile touching his bruised lips.
May you like
"Clara..." Arthur whispered raspy. "Is... is she safe?"
"She's safe, Arthur," Clara promised, tears spilling down her cheeks as she squeezed his hand. "We're all safe now."
