Chapter 5 - The Shield in the Nursery
Inside the north-wing nursery, the sound of gunfire echoing through the distant corridors sounded like rolling thunder.
Emma Reed sat on the floor with Grace and June cradled tightly in her lap. She had barricaded the heavy oak door with a massive mahogany dresser, dragging it across the floorboards with a strength she didn't know she possessed.
“Is the monster coming back, Emma?” six-year-old June whispered, her tear-stained eyes looking up into hers with heartbreaking innocence.
“No, sweetheart,” Emma said, forcing a calm, reassuring smile onto her face while her own hands trembled violently. “Your daddy is out there. He’s going to make sure we’re safe. Nothing bad is ever going to hurt you again.”
Grace reached out and touched Emma’s cheek with her tiny fingers. “You’re brave, Emma. Like a superhero.”
Emma swallowed hard, blinking back her own tears. She wasn't a superhero. She was just a regular girl who needed this job to pay for her mother’s physical therapy. Yet, standing between these innocent children and the nightmares that haunted their home, she knew she would rather die than let anyone through that door.
Thud! Thud! Heavy boots pounding down the hallway.
Emma froze. She held her breath, pulling the twins behind her as she grabbed a heavy brass fireplace poker from the hearth.
“Open up! Federal Marshals! Open the door!” a rough, disguised voice shouted from the corridor.
Emma didn't move an inch. Federal Marshals don't storm a private estate at 4:00 AM without identifying themselves through the intercom system.
“We know you’re in there, bitch! Open the door or we blow the hinges!”
A heavy metal charge was slapped against the outside of the oak door. The unmistakable hiss of a thermal thermite strip ignited, sending a smell of burning wood and sulfur pouring through the cracks around the frame.
Emma’s heart stopped. She looked around the room frantically. There was no balcony, no other exit. They were trapped.
“Hold onto each other and close your eyes!” Emma screamed, wrapping her arms around Grace and June and shielding their bodies with her own as she curled over them on the floor.
BOOM!
The reinforced oak door exploded inward, showering the nursery in splintered wood, white smoke, and blinding sparks.
Through the haze stepped a massive figure in black tactical gear, his assault rifle raised, scanning the room with cold, calculating eyes. He stepped over the burning debris, his eyes locking directly onto Emma and the trembling children.
“Got the targets,” the intruder muttered into his shoulder radio. “Securing the room now.”
He lowered his rifle barrel toward Emma.
Emma didn't scream. She closed her eyes, tightening her embrace around the twins, preparing for the end.
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Before the man could squeeze the trigger, a dark, heavy shadow lunged from the smoke behind him.
Declan Shaw slammed into the mercenary with the force of a freight train, driving him violently through the opposite nursery wall into the hallway.
