Chapter 27
HISS.
A blinding flare of white-hot thermite erupted around the seams of the titanium safe room door. The smell of scorched steel and burning insulation seeped through the ventilation dampers. The heavy mechanical deadbolts began to glow cherry red as the contractors burned through the locking pins.
"Blow it!" a gruff voice shouted from the bedroom.
A hydraulic spreader wedged into the compromised seam, shrieking like a dying animal as it forced the heavy door three inches ajar.
A mercenary stepped into the gap, raising a suppressed carbine to sweep the room.
Emily didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. Standing in a balanced Weaver stance, she fired four consecutive rounds directly through the narrow gap. The hollow-point bullets struck the lead mercenary in the collarbone and face, sending him crashing backward onto the master bedroom floorboards with a wet thud.
"Contact! The woman is armed!" a contractor yelled.
A submachine gun barrel thrust through the opening, spraying blind fire into the ceiling and far wall. Plaster rained down on the carpet. Emily dropped to one knee behind the reinforced marble island in the center of the room, her breathing rhythmic, her focus unbroken. She waited for the magazine to click empty.
The instant the firing ceased, Emily leaned out and fired three deliberate shots, catching the second contractor in the knee and hip as he tried to reload. He screamed in agony, collapsing against the doorframe.
From outside, the mercenary squad leader threw a heavy smoke canister through the gap. Dense gray smoke billowed into the panic room, stinging Emily’s eyes and throat.
"Get the gas masks on!" the leader barked. "Breach the room and put two in the woman's head!"
Emily reached into the emergency console, hitting the secondary switch Ryan had installed for emergency depressurization. The room’s ceiling vents reversed suction, pulling the smoke upward and expelling it out the roof. She stood tall in the cleared room, both hands wrapped around her weapon, her finger resting lightly against the trigger reset.
May you like
She was not a mob boss. She had never executed an enemy in cold blood. But standing between twelve armed killers and the two little girls huddled behind her, Emily Cross-Carter was an immovable mountain.
"Come through that door," Emily whispered into the smoke, her eyes cold as winter. "See what happens."
