Chapter 7 - The Final Stand at the Gates
Before we could secure Julian and Kozlov, the bunker comms unit on my vest beeped frantically.
Ava’s panicked voice came through the speaker: “Dad! Dad, help! There’s someone trying to break through the upper bunker hatch!”
My heart plummeted into my stomach. "Ava! How many?!"
“I don't know! Two men! They're using a plasma torch on the steel secondary door!”
Kozlov laughed weakly from the floor. "My heavy support team... they had a secondary breaching order... if I didn't check in by 2:15 AM... they go for the kids..."
I didn't wait. I turned and sprinted back down the subterranean tunnel toward the bunker entrance, with Claire right at my heels.
We reached the inner vault hallway just as the secondary reinforced hatch burst open in a shower of brilliant white sparks! Two heavy mercenaries draped in full body armor stepped through the smoke, their automatic shotguns raised!
"CLEAR!" one yelled, pointing his weapon toward the inner room where Ava and Emma were huddled!
"NO!" I roared, throwing myself forward!
Claire lunged past me, unhooking a flashbang from my vest and hurling it directly through the open hatch!
The grenade exploded with a blinding flash and deafening roar inside the tight steel corridor! The two mercenaries were thrown backward, disoriented and clutching their eyes!
Claire moved in like a whirlwind. She grabbed the first soldier’s shotgun, twisting it out of his hands and driving a brutal kick into his helmeted face! She swept his legs out, dropping him hard onto the concrete before turning the shotgun on the second guard, neutralizing him with two rapid blasts to his armored chest!
I rushed into the inner room.
Ava was sitting on the floor, holding an iron fire poker, standing shielding Emma behind her back. When she saw me, she dropped the poker, breaking into violent sobs.
"Dad! You came back!"
I threw my arms around both of my daughters, holding them close against my chest, tears finally breaking through my own eyes. "I'm here, baby. I'm here. It's over."
Emma reached out her tiny hand, touching my bloody shoulder, then reached out toward Claire, who stood in the doorway, covered in soot, rain, and blood.
"Thank you, Claire," Emma whispered softly, her sweet voice filling the quiet room.
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Claire looked at the six-year-old child, her tough, battle-hardened exterior melting away. She walked over, dropping to her knees, and pulled Emma into a soft, protective hug.
"You're safe now, little one," Claire murmured into her hair. "Nobody will ever hurt you again."
