Chapter 3 - The Hostage in the Boarding House
Rounds tore through the antique mirrors.
Crystal chandeliers shattered, showering the floor in sharp hail.
“Sylvie! Behind the bar!” Dominic roared.
He dragged me and Valkyrie behind the solid mahogany counter.
Bullets chewed through the wood, splattering expensive cognac over our
shoulders.
Valkyrie shrieked, digging her talons into my leather glove.
“Hold her tight!” Dominic commanded, pulling a tactical assault rifle from a
hidden floor panel.
He leaned around the corner, firing controlled bursts.
Three De Winter mercenaries collapsed onto the Persian carpet.
Camille was crawling through the rear terrace doors, clutching a radio.
“Execute the second target!” she screamed into the microphone.
“Grab the Laurent girl from Saint-Cyr Academy!”
My heart stopped.
Claire.
My fourteen-year-old sister.
“DOMINIC!” I screamed, tears blinding my eyes.
“They have Claire! They're taking her from the school!”
Dominic’s gray eyes flashed with terrifying resolve.
He pulled an encrypted satellite phone from his vest.
He slammed the speaker button.
“Corsica Vanguard,” a sharp military voice answered.
“Target Claire Laurent,” Dominic barked over the deafening gunfire.
“Airborne extraction. Kill anyone who approaches her perimeter.”
“Understood, Don Dominic. Transport helicopter inbound to Saint-Cyr.”
Dominic tossed the phone aside and emptied his magazine into the dining hall.
Henri De Winter was fleeing down the grand staircase toward the underground boat
slip.
Four mercenaries laid down suppressive fire to cover his retreat.
“They're heading for the speedboats!” I yelled.
“They won't make the harbor,” Dominic snarled.
He grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the private lift.
“We take the cliffside hangar.”
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Behind us, a secondary charge detonated in the main parlor.
The grand ballroom collapsed in a roar of smoke and flame.
