Chapter 17 - Blood on the Concrete
Hook:
I didn't turn around; I threw myself violently to the left.
Conflict:
A silenced round cracked through the air where my head had been half a second prior, sparking violently against the concrete floor.
A second gunman, dressed in black, stepped out from behind a steel support pillar behind me.
Discovery:
Before he could adjust his aim, the warehouse skylight shattered in a deafening rain of safety glass.
Two flashbang grenades detonated simultaneously, bathing the interior in a blinding, concussive roar of white light and thunder.
Twist:
Elena and her tactical team dropped from overhead rappels like vengeful shadows.
“STATE POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPON!”
The second gunman panicked, turning his weapon toward the descending tactical officers. Three rapid, suppressed shots echoed through the warehouse. The man crumpled to the ground, dead before he hit the oil-stained concrete.
The scarred man behind Toby grabbed my son out of the chair, using him as a shield as he dragged him backward toward the pier doors. “BACK OFF OR I BLOW HIS HEAD OFF!” he screamed, his pistol pressed against Toby’s ear.
Emotion:
Time slowed down to a single, crystalline heartbeat.
I didn't think about architects, blueprints, or the law. I thought about the sixty-two days my wife had spent trapped in a coma, fighting to wake up for this little boy. I thought about the promises we made under the stars.
Cliffhanger:
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Toby didn't scream. He remembered our basement wrestling matches. With all his weight, he brought his small heel down onto the scarred man’s instep, and bit the man’s gun wrist with all the fury of a terrified child.
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