Chapter 18 - The Secret Heir of the Ruined Empire
The horrifying,
chilling realization that a highly trained,
ruthless psychopath was actively hunting my innocent,
defenseless child sent a violent,
electric shock of pure,
primal rage straight through my entire nervous system,
completely obliterating any remaining,
lingering traces of fear.
I was no longer the weak,
terrified,
and desperate pregnant woman who had pleaded uselessly,
pathetically for her life in a cold,
shallow grave,
I was a fiercely protective,
hardened mother who had already destroyed a massive,
powerful empire,
and I would gladly,
ruthlessly destroy a single,
insane man.
"We cannot just wait for him to attack us,"
I declared coldly,
my voice completely steady,
devoid of any previous panic,
surprising even Arthur with the absolute,
unwavering intensity of my sudden,
icy resolve.
"We need to completely control the battlefield,"
I explained rapidly,
my mind already forming a desperate,
highly risky tactical plan,
knowing that Julian would expect me to run away,
expect me to cower in terror just like his weak,
pathetic brother always did.
Arthur nodded slowly,
a dark,
grim smile touching the corners of his weathered,
scarred lips,
fully understanding the dangerous,
violent path we were about to walk down,
cocking his heavy,
hunting rifle with a loud,
satisfying metallic click.
We decided to send little Leo secretly,
quietly to a highly secure,
guarded safe house located three towns away,
escorted personally by two off-duty,
heavily armed federal marshals that Sarah had miraculously,
frantically managed to hire using her extensive,
powerful network.
Watching the sleek,
black,
armored SUV drive away into the dark,
rainy night with my precious son inside was the hardest,
most agonizing thing I had ever done,
my heart physically aching,
tearing in my chest as his small,
confused face disappeared behind the tinted,
bulletproof glass.
But I knew it was absolutely,
undeniably necessary,
because the beautiful,
peaceful coastal cottage was about to become a highly lethal,
violent trap,
specifically designed to lure the arrogant,
vengeful half-brother out of the dark,
hidden shadows.
We purposely left all the bright,
warm lights on inside the house,
creating a perfect,
inviting illusion of vulnerability,
while Arthur and I dressed completely in dark,
unreflective clothing,
hiding silently,
patiently in the dense,
thick brush surrounding the perimeter of the property.
The night dragged on endlessly,
the agonizing,
slow passing of time marked only by the relentless,
rhythmic crashing of the angry ocean waves against the rocky shore,
the freezing,
bitter wind biting painfully,
sharply into my exposed,
numb cheeks.
Around two in the morning,
the incredibly faint,
almost imperceptible crunch of wet gravel broke the heavy,
oppressive silence,
sending a massive,
surging spike of pure adrenaline straight into my wildly beating,
anxious heart.
A tall,
broad-shouldered figure emerged silently,
fluidly from the dark,
towering pine trees,
moving with the eerie,
unnatural grace of a highly skilled,
apex predator,
dressed entirely in black,
tactical combat gear.
He held a massive,
silenced pistol in his right hand,
and a heavy,
military-grade steel crowbar in his left,
his face completely obscured by a dark,
tight ski mask,
but his arrogant,
confident posture was unmistakably,
eerily similar to my imprisoned husband.
Julian approached the heavy,
wooden front door with absolute,
silent precision,
clearly intending to break in quickly,
quietly,
and murder us brutally,
mercilessly in our beds,
unaware that the house was entirely,
completely empty.
I squeezed Arthur's thick,
muscular arm gently,
signaling him to hold his fire,
wanting the arrogant,
foolish intruder to commit entirely,
fully to his violent invasion before we completely,
ruthlessly shut the trap on him.
As Julian raised the heavy,
steel crowbar to expertly,
silently pry open the sturdy front lock,
I reached into my dark pocket,
my fingers wrapping tightly,
resolutely around the small,
May you like
remote detonator we had carefully,
strategically wired to the porch lights.
