Chapter 11 - Crossfire Maternity
Evelyn stood in the shattered doorway of the timber mill, the double-barreled shotgun resting against her hip with the practiced ease of someone who had spent decades burying secrets. The headlights of the sedan framed her silhouette in a harsh, ghostly halo, casting long, menacing shadows across the rotting sawdust floors. Maya remained frozen between Leo and her mother, the revolver in her waistband feeling suddenly heavy and useless against the scale of the violence unfolding around her. "Mom!" Maya shouted, her voice cracking with desperation. "Put the gun down! He’s your—he’s Arthur’s son!"
Evelyn didn't even flinch. Her dark eyes remained locked on Leo, who kept his suppressed pistol pointed squarely at Maya’s chest, though a bitter, ironic smile touched the corners of his mouth. "He’s a ghost who should have stayed in the ashes, Maya," Evelyn said coldly, her finger resting lightly on the front trigger. "Your father tried to do the right thing twenty years ago by giving him a clean break, but some bloodlines can't be washed clean with money." Leo let out a low, humorless chuckle, shifting his stance slightly to use Maya as a human shield against the shotgun barrels.
"Is that what Arthur calls it?" Leo mocked, his voice dripping with venom. "A clean break? He forged my signature, drained the trust fund, and left me in that burning building while he built his cozy suburban life with you and Maya. Vance didn't help him cover up an accident, Evelyn. They covered up attempted murder." Before Evelyn could respond, a sharp, metallic sound echoed from the shadows behind the rusted machinery. Detective Vance stepped out from the gloom, no longer playing the part of the friendly family dinner guest. He held his service weapon raised, aiming directly at the back of Evelyn’s head.
May you like
"Drop the shotgun, Evelyn," Vance ordered, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Arthur’s car is out front, the ledger is right here, and your daughter has already signed her name in blood just by driving that car off the suburban driveway. You lose." Evelyn’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched near her ear—the exact same twitch Maya had seen on her mother’s face just an hour ago on the front porch. With a slow, calculated breath, Evelyn didn't drop the shotgun. Instead, she pivoted 180 degrees in a single fluid motion and fired the left barrel directly into the concrete floor inches in front of Vance’s shoes, sending a blinding shower of sparks and shrapnel flying into his face.
---
