Chapter 4 - The Hunt in the Storm
The small wooden cabin sat at the edge of a jagged rock cliff overlooking the roaring Atlantic Ocean. Rain slammed against the glass windows, and the wind howled through the towering pine trees.
Inside, the room was lit by a single kerosene lamp.
Clara sat on the floor near the wood stove, holding Lily tightly against her chest. The three-year-old girl was fast asleep, her small face buried in her mother’s shoulder, exhausted from twelve hours of frantic travel.
Clara’s eyes were red, shadowed with deep exhaustion. Every creak of the wooden floorboards, every gust of wind against the door made her heart leap into her throat.
She knew Marcus Kane would eventually realize she had left the drive behind. She had hidden the rabbit under Lily’s bed, hoping the child would leave it behind in her hurry, praying that Damian would find it before Marcus cleared out the room.
Did he find it? Clara thought, fresh tears brimming in her eyes. Or did Marcus get to him first?
CRACK!
A sharp sound echoed from the front porch—the distinct crunch of heavy boots breaking a wooden floorboard.
Clara froze. Her blood turned to ice.
She quickly pulled Lily up, backing toward the small rear bathroom. "Lily, baby, stay quiet," she whispered, her voice trembling violently.
"Clara!" a harsh voice yelled from outside, followed by the heavy impact of a shoulder slamming against the reinforced wooden door. "Open the door! Marcus sends his regards!"
BANG! BANG!
The lock shattered! The front door burst open, swinging wildly on its hinges!
Two broad-shouldered men in dark raincoats stepped inside, their suppressed handguns drawn, scanning the dim room.
Clara slammed the bathroom door shut and threw the deadbolt, clutching Lily to her chest as the toddler woke up, crying in terror.
"Mommy! Mommy!" Lily wailed.
"Shh! Baby, please, Mommy’s here!" Clara cried, backing against the cold porcelain tub, looking frantically for a window or a weapon.
Outside the bathroom, heavy footsteps approached.
"Come on out, Clara," the lead hitman sneered, shaking the door handle. "Marcus said no witnesses. You shouldn't have left that drive in the rabbit, sweetheart."
Clara closed her eyes, squeezing Lily with all her strength, bracing for the end. "I'm sorry, Lily... I'm so sorry..."
GLASS SHATTERING!
A violent explosion of noise erupted from the front room!
PAK-PAK-PAK!
The sound of suppressed gunfire tore through the cabin, followed by heavy thuds and the sharp gasp of a dying man!
"What the—!" the second hitman yelled outside the bathroom door, firing two wild shots into the hallway before a heavy shotgun blast ripped through the air, throwing his body violently against the wall!
Silence descended on the cabin, broken only by the howling wind and the patter of rain outside.
Clara pressed her back against the wall, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She held her breath, waiting to see who had survived.
Slowly, footsteps walked down the small hallway. They stopped outside the bathroom door.
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A deep, familiar voice spoke through the wood—a voice that made Clara’s breath catch in her throat.
"Clara. It’s me. Open the door."
