Chapter 12 - The Poison Dart
Sheriff Miller gasped sharply, his hands flying to his neck as the small black dart vanished into his collar. His eyes widened in shock, his confident demeanor shattering instantly as his knees buckled beneath him. He hit the gravel driveway with a heavy, ungraceful thud, his fingers clawing feebly at the pavement before his arms went completely limp.
Elena screamed, throwing her hands over her mouth as she stumbled backward, her light blue t-shirt snagging again on the wooden fence. "What happened to him? Did he just get shot?"
"Not shot," Clara said, her heart hammering against her ribs as she dropped the heavy service weapon onto the driveway. She stared toward the treeline where the black-ops figures had been standing just seconds before. The trees were empty now. The tactical team wasn't rescuing Miller; they were eliminating a loose end. "He was silenced. The agency doesn't leave witnesses behind once a protocol goes sideways."
David grabbed Clara by the wrist, his strength far greater than his frail appearance suggested. "We have to move, Clara. Now! They're coming across the fence."
A series of muffled rustles echoed from the brush near the back fence as three figures in unmarked black tactical gear dropped swiftly onto the lawn, moving with lethal, terrifying efficiency. They wore full face-concealing helmets and carried suppressed carbines, their dark uniforms blending into the shadows of the fading afternoon light.
"Inside the house!" Clara yelled, abandoning the black trash bag of evidence as she grabbed Elena's arm, yanking her sister away from the fence.
The sisters and David scrambled across the battered gravel, diving through the shattered living room window. Jagged glass crunched beneath their shoes and clothes as they tumbled onto the dusty hardwood floor of the abandoned living room. Clara scrambled up immediately, dragging Elena behind her as the first suppressed pop of a firearm echoed outside, sending a bullet tearing through the exterior wall just inches above their heads.
"The basement!" David called out, sprinting toward the interior cellar door located at the end of the hallway. "The runoff tunnel leads away from the property, underneath the highway!"
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Elena stumbled, her breath coming in ragged sobs as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the shattered hall mirror—disheveled, dirt-stained, and utterly terrified. But there was no time to process the trauma. As they reached the interior cellar door, the front door of the house was kicked open with a thunderous crash, and heavy combat boots echoed loudly across the foyer floor.
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