Chapter 8: Fortifying the Inside
The muffled sounds of footsteps circling the perimeter of the suburban home turned Jenna’s temporary relief into an acute survival crisis. She stood up abruptly from her kneeling position beside Lily’s wheelchair, her mind racing through the architectural layout of the house. The front door was deadbolted, but the sprawling ranch-style property featured sliding glass patio doors at the rear—doors that possessed notoriously weak latches. ""Evelyn, take the girls into the basement stairwell immediately,"" Jenna commanded, her voice dropping all pretense of hesitation, adopting the tone of a seasoned commander in a war zone. Evelyn didn't argue this time; the years of bitterness evaporated in the face of an external, lethal threat. She grabbed the handles of Lily’s wheelchair, steering the girl toward the interior hallway, while urging Aubrey to run ahead. Aubrey scrambled up, her pink ballet shoes clicking frantically against the hardwood floor before disappearing down the descending steps. Left alone in the front foyer for a critical moment, Jenna pressed her smartphone back to her ear. Arthur’s voice came through instantly, laced with digital static and intense anxiety. ""Jenna! The state police have the files, but jurisdiction takes ten minutes to cross-authorize. You need to hold that house!"" ""They're circling the back, Arthur!"" Jenna replied, jogging toward the kitchen while keeping a wary eye on the large picture windows facing the street. The dark sedan was still idling in the driveway, but two additional men in matching dark suits had emerged from an unmarked van parked down the street, moving with practiced military precision toward the backyard fence. Jenna reached the kitchen just as a sharp metallic rattle echoed from the patio doors. Someone was testing the lock. Without wasting a second, Jenna grabbed a heavy wooden broom from the pantry, jammed the handle horizontally through the metal security bar of the sliding door, and wedged it securely into the track. The latch rattled violently as someone threw their weight against the exterior glass. The pane groaned under the pressure, a spiderweb crack radiating outward from the center frame. Jenna stepped back, her heart hammering against her ribs, her hand instinctively reaching for her phone to capture the assault on video as digital proof of forced entry. This recording would serve as the final nail in the corporate coffin, provided they survived the next five minutes. Through the cracked glass, she caught a glimpse of a cold, expressionless face peering in from the autumn twilight, confirming that the corporate fixers were entirely willing to use physical violence to erase the inconvenient truth sitting in her basement.
May you like
