Chapter 8 - The Ambush on the Driveway
The sudden flash of headlights sweeping across the living room walls blinded the intruder for a fraction of a second, causing him to instinctively look toward the front window. That split-second distraction was all David needed. He hurled the heavy blue-covered storybook directly at the man’s face, lunging forward at the same time to tackle him around the waist.
The book caught the intruder squarely under the chin, throwing his aim off as the shotgun discharged into the ceiling, blowing a massive hole in the plaster and showering the room in white dust and debris.
"Damn you!" the man roared, swinging the heavy butt of the gun down toward David’s shoulder.
The blow landed with brutal force, sending a shockwave of pain through David’s arm and knocking him sideways against the dark leather couch. He gasped for air, his ribs aching fiercely, but he didn't stop moving. He scrambled over the back of the couch, kicking out blindly with his legs and catching the intruder in the kneecap.
The man collapsed with a sharp curse, dropping the shotgun as he grabbed his leg in agony.
Without looking back, David bolted toward the front door, bursting out onto the porch into the cool night air. Parked in the driveway was a sleek black SUV with its engine idling and its hazard lights blinking rhythmically. The driver's side door swung open, and a familiar figure stepped out into the amber glow of the porch light.
It wasn't Elena. It was Marcus, breathing heavily and holding a heavy metal tire iron in his right hand.
"Get in the car, you idiot!" Marcus yelled, his usual cynical demeanor completely replaced by frantic adrenaline. "If you stay here, Victor and his crew will finish what they started!"
David stopped at the edge of the porch, staring at his brother-in-law with deep distrust.
"You're working with them," David accused, pointing a trembling finger at Marcus. "You set this whole thing up!"
"I'm trying to save my sister and your kid from a syndicate that will kill all of us without blinking an eye!" Marcus shouted back, stepping forward and grabbing David by the jacket sleeve. "Victor is just the muscle. The people funding this want Sarah’s legacy buried permanently. Now get in the car, or your daughter dies tonight!"
Before David could process the frantic warning, the front door of the house banged open behind them. Victor appeared on the porch, a bloody gash across his jaw, leveling a secondary handgun directly at Marcus’s back.
"Drop the weapon, Marcus, or I'll blow your brains out right here on the lawn," Victor barked, his voice dripping with venom.
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Marcus froze, his grip on the tire iron loosening as he slowly raised his empty left hand, whispering under his breath, "We're out of time."
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