Chapter 9: The Boathouse Stand
Clara dragged Leo inside the weathered wooden boathouse, slamming the heavy iron latch shut just as the first gunshot shattered the night, splintering the exterior doorframe.
"Get behind the wooden hull, Leo!" Clara yelled, pushing the boy into the dry well of Victor’s vintage wooden racing boat.
The mercenaries battered against the reinforced oak door. Clara grabbed an iron boat hook from the wall, her hands shaking but her resolve unyielding. She had spent her life being overlooked, cleaning up after the wealthy, but tonight she was the only wall standing between an innocent child and cold-blooded executioners.
The door splintered open. A tall operative in tactical gear stepped inside, raising a suppressed pistol. "Hand over the boy, lady, and maybe you get to walk away."
"Over my dead body," Clara spat, swinging the heavy boat hook with all her might. The metal hook caught the man across the wrist, knocking the weapon clattering into the dark water beneath the floorboards.
The operative snarled, lunging forward and slamming Clara against the wall. She gasped for air as his gloved hands closed around her throat.
Suddenly, sirens wailed through the storm. High-beam searchlights illuminated the boathouse windows as two black SUVs crashed through the perimeter fence, followed closely by federal pursuit cruisers.
"Federal agents! Drop your weapons and get on the ground!" Julian’s voice roared over a megaphone.
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The mercenary hesitated, and Clara used that split second to drive her heel into his knee. He collapsed with a groan just as federal tactical units swarmed the boathouse, pinning the intruder to the floorboards.
Julian burst through the doorway, soaking wet and wild-eyed. Seeing Leo and Clara unharmed, he dropped to his knees, pulling them both into a fierce, trembling embrace. "I've got you. You're safe."
