Chapter 7 - The Chase in the Dark
The shattering of glass and the sudden explosion of sparks as the wall sconce shorted out plunged the grand hallway into absolute inkiness. In the fraction of a second before Marcus could draw his weapon, Daniel bolted toward the shadows of the staircase, his long strides eating up the distance between the marble pillars. A muffled curse echoed from the center of the hall, followed immediately by the sharp, heavy metallic snap of a pistol slide being racked in the dark.
"You can't run through your own house blind, Daniel!" Marcus's voice echoed off the high vaulted ceilings, amplified by the acoustics of the empty hall. "The security cameras are logged directly to my tablet. I can see every breath you take!"
Daniel didn't answer. He dropped low, his hand sliding along the carved wooden baseboard until his fingers touched the hidden panel of the service corridor entrance. He slipped through the narrow gap just as a heavy bullet slammed into the oak molding inches above his head, splintering the wood and raining wood-dust down onto his shoulders.
Inside the pitch-black service corridor, Daniel moved entirely by memory. He knew every turn, every loose floorboard, and every shift in the brickwork from the days when he was a boy exploring the old mansion before it was remodeled into a modern fortress. He navigated the cramped space at a half-run, his breathing controlled and shallow, keeping his focus entirely on one objective: reaching the walk-in pantry in the kitchens before Marcus figured out the architectural layout of the servants' quarters.
The air grew cooler as he approached the kitchen wing, the faint smell of flour and aged oak replacing the scent of polish and rain. He pushed open the heavy wooden door of the walk-in pantry, sliding into the darkness just as the far door of the kitchen clicked open with a soft metallic latch.
"Lily?" Daniel whispered into the pitch-black space behind the rows of flour sacks.
A small, warm hand immediately grasped his index finger, squeezing it so hard his knuckles ached. "Dad?" Lily whispered back, her voice barely a breath against the quiet hum of the industrial refrigerator. "Was that a firecracker?"
"No, sweetheart," Daniel murmured, kneeling down to wrap his arms around her small frame, pulling her tight against his chest. "That was just an old friend dropping by uninvited."
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Outside the pantry door, the heavy, deliberate footsteps of combat boots crunched across the tiled floor of the main kitchen. The light from a tactical flashlight cut a bright white beam through the narrow space beneath the pantry door, sweeping slowly across the floorboards right toward where they were hiding.
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