Chapter 4 - The Sound of the Break
"Mr. Victor sends his regards," the man said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He raised the weapon, pointing it directly at my chest.
My heart hammered against my ribs, the pain from my injuries forgotten in a surge of pure adrenaline. I didn't have time to scream. I grabbed the heavy glass water pitcher from the bedside table and threw it with all the strength I had left.
The pitcher struck his shoulder, shattering into a million pieces. The water soaked his jacket, distracting him for a fraction of a second. The gun went off, the silenced thwip echoing in the small room as the bullet embedded itself into the pillow right next to my head.
I rolled off the opposite side of the bed, crashing hard onto the linoleum floor. The pain shot through my fractured ribs like white-hot knives, but I forced myself to crawl toward the bathroom.
The assassin stepped around the bed, his boots crunching on the broken glass. He raised the weapon again, aiming down at me.
"Goodbye, Clara," he said.
Bang!
The bathroom door exploded inward, but the shot didn't come from the assassin. Officer Miller stood in the hallway door, his service weapon smoking. The assassin collapsed forward, his gun clattering across the floor as he hit the ground, completely unconscious.
Officer Miller rushed forward, kneeling next to me. "Are you okay, ma'am? The whole grid just went down. Someone cut the main power lines to the hospital block."
"It's Victor," I gasped, holding my side as the room spun. "He's trying to eliminate me before the federal team arrives. You need to get me out of here, Officer. The backup generators won't hold the security doors forever."
Within five minutes, Miller had me wrapped in a heavy blanket and tucked into the back of his police cruiser. The rain was blinding as we sped away from the hospital, the tires splashing through deep puddles on the dark Ohio streets.
"Where are we going, Clara?" Miller asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror. "The station isn't secure if Victor Mercer has this kind of reach."
"We go to the one place Victor thinks I’d never dare to return to," I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "The Mercer Estate. Grant’s house."
Miller looked shocked. "Are you crazy? That's the first place they'll look for you!"
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"No, it isn't," I said, a cold, calculating smile appearing on my face. "Victor thinks I'm terrified of that house. He thinks the memories of what Grant did to me there would keep me away forever. But Grant’s personal study contains the master terminal that controls the entire Mercer Logistics network. If I can log into that terminal using the primary administrative clearance, I can lock Victor out of his own empire permanently."
I looked out the window as the massive iron gates of the Mercer Estate loomed in the distance. The house looked like a dark, gothic fortress against the stormy night sky. For three years, it had been my prison. Tonight, it would become the execution chamber for the Mercer family legacy.
