Chapter 6 - Fire on the Estate
The gates of the Lake Forest estate had been blown off their hinges.
Smoke rolled across the manicured lawns, smelling of copper and burnt rubber. Three security vehicles were overturned in the driveway, their alarm sirens wailing uselessly against the thunder overhead.
Arthur’s Cadillac slammed through the smoking debris, coming to a halt near the main entrance.
Arthur leaped out before the vehicle had stopped moving, his pistol in hand.
“CHLOE!” he roared, charging through the shattered front doors.
The grand foyer was a warzone. Two Croft mercenaries lay dead near the marble staircase, but the path leading up to the master suite was marked by fresh drops of blood.
Arthur took the stairs three at a time, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Inside the master bedroom, the heavy oak doors had been kicked in.
Standing near the center of the room was a heavy-set mercenary holding Maria by her collar, a knife pressed to the old housekeeper’s throat. Near the open bathroom door stood two more armed men, trying to kick through the reinforced steel panic door where Chloe was hiding.
“Drop the weapon, Romano!” the mercenary holding Maria yelled, tightening his grip on the knife.
Arthur didn't bargain. He didn't hesitate.
He raised his pistol and fired two shots in a fraction of a second. The first round struck the man holding Maria squarely between the eyes. The second and third rounds caught the two men near the bathroom before they could even turn their weapons around.
The bodies hit the floor with heavy, sickening thuds.
Maria collapsed against the wall, gasping for air. “Arthur... the girl... she’s inside! They tried to gas the room!”
Arthur rushed to the steel panic door and slammed his palm against the biometric scanner. “Chloe! It’s me! Open the door!”
The steel door hissed as the pressure seals released.
It swung open slowly.
Chloe was sitting on the tiled floor of the panic room, clutching her belly, her face soaked in cold sweat. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with unimaginable agony.
“Arthur...” she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. “The water... it broke.”
Arthur’s gun dropped from his fingers, clattering against the floor tiles.
He dropped to his knees beside her, pulling her into his arms. Beneath her dress, the fabric was soaked through. Severe, continuous contractions were tearing through her body, her abdomen hard as stone under his touch.
“It’s too early,” Arthur gasped, terror seizing his throat. “It’s only seven months!”
“I can't... stop it...” Chloe sobbed, her fingers digging into his shoulders as another contraction racked her frame. “Arthur, it hurts... please... save the baby!”
Dr. Mercer rushed into the bedroom behind them, his medical bag in hand, flanked by two armed paramedics who had stayed behind to guard the medical wing.
Mercer took one look at Chloe and turned pale. “Get her onto the bed! NOW! We don't have time to reach the hospital—the baby is crowning!”
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Arthur lifted Chloe in his arms, ignoring the pain in his own body, and laid her gently on the massive master bed.
The storm raged outside, lightning illuminating the room in blinding flashes of blue and white, as the man who ruled Chicago’s underworld held his wife’s hand, completely powerless before the raw, miraculous fight for human life.
