Chapter 15 - Fire and Ice
Z
The drive up the mountain was a blur of high-speed maneuvers and white-knuckled terror. Sarah pushed her armored vehicle to its absolute limit, the engine screaming as she navigated the treacherous Alpine hairpins. Her phone was hot against her ear, but every attempt to contact the villa failed.
As she rounded the final bend, the villa came into view. It was bathed in an eerie orange glow. The main gate was smashed, and the security lights were flickering, dying one by one.
Sarah didn't hesitate. She drove her car directly through the side of the perimeter wall, the armor plating absorbing the impact, and skidded to a halt in the courtyard.
Gunfire erupted from the villa’s balcony. Sarah ducked, pulling her own sidearm from the holster she’d started carrying after the penthouse incident. She moved with a calculated, lethal precision, utilizing the cover of the burning security cars to advance toward the main entrance.
She reached the heavy oak doors, kicked them open, and stepped into the foyer.
Two men in black tactical gear were moving toward the stairs. Sarah fired, her shots ringing out in the enclosed space. One man went down; the other returned fire, the bullets splintering the banister beside her head.
"Lucas! Ethan!" she screamed.
A faint, muffled cry answered from the floor above.
Sarah sprinted toward the staircase, ignoring the bullets whizzing past her. She leaped over the body of the fallen mercenary and stormed up the stairs. In the hallway, she saw a man dragging a struggling Lucas toward the service elevator.
Sarah didn't think. She threw her weight into a shoulder charge, slamming into the man with such force that they both went crashing through the railing and onto the marble floor below.
She rolled to her feet, gun drawn, but the man was faster. He pulled a knife and lunged.
Sarah caught his wrist, the blade inches from her throat. Her muscles burned, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She looked into his eyes—they were cold, empty, professional.
"Where are they?" she snarled, slamming his head against the floor until he went limp.
She didn't wait for a response. She scrambled back up the stairs, throwing open the door to the boys' bedroom.
The room was empty. The window was shattered, and a rope ladder hung down the side of the cliff.
Sarah looked out the window. Down on the lake, a black speedboat was racing away, cutting a white wake through the dark water.
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She looked back at the room. On the floor lay a small, plastic airplane wing—the same one Lucas had been playing with the day of the birthday party.
She picked it up, her hand shaking with a rage so absolute, so cold, that it felt like it could freeze the lake itself. They had taken her sons again. And this time, she wouldn't play by the rules of the court. She would play by theirs.
