Chapter 7
The glowing blue light of the laptop screen illuminated Iris’s tear-streaked face, casting long, dramatic shadows across the ruined living room. For a fraction of a second, the color completely drained from David’s face, shattering his cool, composed demeanor into a million jagged pieces. He lunged forward with a speed that shocked everyone in the room.
"Give me that!" David screamed, abandoning his polished facade entirely as he lunged toward his niece.
Before David could close the distance, Laura intercepted him, throwing her entire weight against his chest and driving him backward into the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of David with a sharp grunt, sending him crashing into the floral sofa alongside Aunt Martha, who shrieked in absolute terror and scrambled out of the way.
Viktor’s expression hardened instantly. The polite, detached observer vanished, replaced by the ruthless criminal boss who didn't tolerate loose ends or stolen evidence.
"Get the computer," Viktor commanded, his voice cold enough to freeze boiling water.
The two massive guards on the threshold surged forward into the living room, their heavy boots trampling the remaining birthday balloons until they popped with sharp, echoing reports. Uncle Greg paralyzed himself against the corner of the room, covering his head with his arms, completely useless as the chaos erupted around him.
Iris didn't hesitate. Clutching the glowing laptop tightly to her chest, she turned and sprinted down the hallway toward the back of the house, heading straight for the kitchen and the rear exit leading out to the yard.
"Iris, run!" Laura yelled over the commotion, struggling to keep David pinned against the sofa as he fought viciously to break free.
"Let me go, you crazy bitch!" David snarled, striking out with his elbow and catching Laura squarely in the ribs.
Laura gasped, the pain tearing through her side, but she refused to loosen her grip on his collar. She dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, using every ounce of her remaining strength to anchor him in place, buying her daughter the precious seconds she needed to escape.
One of Viktor’s guards bypassed them effortlessly, his massive frame barreling down the hallway after Iris with terrifying speed. The heavy thud of his boots echoed through the narrow corridor.
"No!" Laura screamed, watching the guard disappear around the corner.
Just as the guard reached the kitchen doorway, a loud crash echoed from the back of the house, followed by the sound of breaking glass and a sharp, agonized yell. The guard stumbled backward out of the kitchen, clutching his face as blood poured freely from a deep gash above his eyebrow.
Iris reappeared in the hallway doorway for a split second, panting heavily, holding a heavy cast-iron skillet in her right hand while the laptop was securely tucked under her left arm.
"Nice try," Iris called out, her voice ringing with adrenaline and fierce defiance before she bolted out the back door into the dark night.
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Viktor stared down the hallway toward the kitchen, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles in his face jumped. He slowly turned his cold, dead eyes back toward Laura and David, who were still tangled in a violent struggle on the sofa.
"It seems," Viktor murmured, pulling a sleek, matte-black pistol from inside his wool overcoat, "your family has a severe discipline problem, David. And now, we have a very serious leak."
