Chapter 7 - The Final Trap
Time seemed to slow down to a crawl.
As Chloe swung the heavy iron poker toward my head, every self-defense technique Arthur’s private security chief had drilled into me over the last two weeks kicked in instinctively.
I didn't duck. I didn't freeze.
I stepped directly inside her swing, throwing my shoulder forward into her chest with all the momentum of my body weight.
Chloe gasped as the impact knocked the wind out of her lungs. She stumbled backward, losing her balance on the polished hardwood floor, and crashed hard against the heavy oak base of the mantelpiece. The iron poker flew from her hand, clattering loudly across the room.
Before she could recover, I dropped down on top of her, pinning her wrists to the floor with my knees and pressing my hands firmly against her shoulders.
"Get off me! Let me go!" Chloe shrieked, thrashing wildly beneath me, scratching at my arms.
"It's over, Chloe," I breathed heavily, looking down into her terrified, distorted face. "The game is finished."
Sirens.
Outside the estate, the unmistakable, wailing shriek of police cruisers and an emergency ambulance tore through the quiet night air, their flashing red and blue lights painting the bedroom walls in frantic strokes.
Heavy footsteps thudded up the stairs.
The bedroom door burst open. Two armed police officers, followed by Mrs. Gable and a team of paramedics carrying a trauma kit, swarmed into the room.
"Freeze! Drop your weapons!" an officer shouted, leveling his taser at Chloe.
"She poisoned him! She tried to kill us both!" I yelled, stepping off Chloe and raising my hands so the officers could see I was unarmed.
The police officers instantly pinned Chloe to the floor, snapping the cold steel handcuffs around her wrists as she screamed obscenities, kicking and thrashing like a cornered animal.
Meanwhile, the paramedics rushed past us to Arthur’s chair.
"He's going into respiratory arrest!" the lead paramedic shouted. "Get the oxygen mask! Prepare the antidote drip now!"
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I stood frozen by the window, watching them fight for Arthur’s life, my hands covered in dirt, sweat, and a few drops of my own blood. I whispered a silent, desperate prayer into the empty room.
Don't you dare die on me, old man. You promised me a war, and we haven't even won yet.
