Chapter 8 - The Battle for the Heir
Mark ducked smoothly beneath the swinging metal bar, the heavy steel whistling inches above his hair, shattering a porcelain vase against the hallway wall into a thousand sharp fragments.
Victoria swung again with wild, unhinged strength, her face contorted in manic rage. "You ruined my life! My mother is in prison because of you!"
Mark grabbed her wrist mid-swing, twisting the steel bar from her grip and tossing it down the marble hallway where it clattered harmlessly away.
Victoria shrieked, using her fingernails to strike at his face, but Mark caught both her hands, pinning her arms behind her back with effortless strength.
"It's over, Victoria!" Mark roared, holding her firm against the wall. "You're going back to prison for the rest of your life!"
Suddenly, a loud, metallic screech echoed from the end of the corridor.
One of Eleanor's paid mercenaries—a burly man in dark tactical gear who had helped Victoria escape—stepped out from the study, holding a heavy suppressed pistol aimed directly at Mark's chest.
"Drop her, Carter," the mercenary growled, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Mark froze, his body shielding Victoria as he looked down the barrel of the gun.
Before the mercenary could fire, a heavy steel fire extinguisher smashed into the side of his head with thunderous force.
CRACK!
The mercenary crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Standing behind him, holding the dented fire extinguisher, was David. He calmly kicked the dropped pistol away, securing the mercenary in heavy zip-ties.
"You're late, David," Mark panted, holding the struggling Victoria firmly.
"Traffic in the hallway was terrible," David grinned dryly, pulling out a pair of high-security tactical handcuffs and snapping them around Victoria's wrists.
Victoria let out a pathetic, animalistic howl of defeat as she was forced down onto her knees, her frantic eyes realizing that her last desperate attempt at control had completely failed.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the front entrance as twenty heavily armed SWAT officers burst into the estate, their tactical flashlights cutting through the red emergency lights.
Detective Vance stepped into the hallway, taking in the scene with a long, weary sigh.
"Victoria Vance," Detective Vance declared, stepping forward. "You are under arrest for prison escape, armed assault, and attempted kidnapping. You won't be seeing a hospital room this time."
As the officers hauled Victoria away, Mark ran down the stairs toward the master safe room.
He pressed his thumb against the biometric scanner beside the heavy steel door.
BEEP-BEEP. ACCESS GRANTED.
The heavy door hissed open.
Elena stood inside, holding baby Lily tight against her chest, a heavy bronze statue held in her right hand as a weapon, ready to defend her child to her last breath.
When she saw Mark standing in the doorway, safe and unharmed, the bronze statue dropped onto the soft carpet.
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"Mark!" Elena cried out, sprinting forward and throwing her arms around his neck, holding him and Lily in a single, tight, unbroken embrace.
"It's over, Elena," Mark wept softly, kissing her temple, her cheeks, and her soft lips as Lily let out a happy, cheerful gurgle between them. "They're gone. All of them. We're safe."
