Chapter 9 - The Sniper in the Pines
Julian instinctively threw his body over Sophie, driving them both deep into the mud beneath the overhang of the rusted shed as a second bullet shattered a ceramic flower pot resting on a nearby crate. Ceramic shrapnel rained down over them, stinging Julian’s neck and shoulders, but he didn't dare move.
"Get down! Everyone flat!" the tall man in the rain slicker shouted, unzipping his heavy coat and drawing a heavy-caliber firearm from a concealed shoulder holster.
Clara didn't hesitate; she dropped to her knees in the mud beside Julian, shielding Sophie’s head with her hands.
"It’s coming from the second-story terrace of the mansion," Clara yelled over the howling wind, her eyes scanning the dark, rain-soaked treeline that stretched back toward the estate. "She has a clear line of sight through the clearing."
Julian looked up, his heart hammering against his ribs as he realized the terrifying tactical advantage Beatrice held from the brightly lit modern mansion. From the upper balcony, anyone with a scoped rifle could pick them off one by one in the open clearing without ever leaving the warmth of the hallway.
"We can't stay here," Julian said, his jaw set with grim determination. He looked down at Sophie, who was crying silently, her small body trembling with cold and fear. "The car. Martha is waiting in my car parked near the main gate."
"Martha isn't in the car anymore, Julian," Clara said, her voice dangerously quiet.
Julian froze, turning to stare at his wife in sheer disbelief. "What do you mean she isn't in the car? I left her there myself."
"Beatrice doesn't leave loose ends, Julian. Martha was working for her the entire time," the tall man muttered, keeping his weapon aimed toward the tree line as he scanned the darkness for movement.
"That’s a lie," Julian protested, though the memory of Martha’s torn collar and suspiciously convenient presence in the hallway flashed through his mind with brutal clarity. "Martha saved Sophie from the basement."
"Martha locked her in the basement on Beatrice’s orders to test the girl’s threshold," Clara corrected bitterly, pressing a warm, trembling hand onto Julian’s shoulder. "She was part of the containment protocol from day one."
A third shot rang out, tearing through the heavy canvas roof of the rusted shed and showering them in flakes of rust and splintered wood. There was no time to argue, no time to process the devastating betrayal of the woman they had trusted for years.
"We need to move toward the old drainage tunnel," the tall man barked, gesturing toward a heavy iron grate half-hidden behind a wall of overgrown blackberry bushes at the edge of the clearing. "It leads underneath the mansion directly into the sub-basement."
Julian scooped Sophie back up into his arms, ignoring the mud soaking through his clothes, and nodded at the stranger.
May you like
"Lead the way," Julian said.
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