Chapter 39 - The Sibling Reckoning
Eleanor unleashed an agonizing shriek of pain as her weapon clattered to the floor, her body violently jerked backward into the shadows.
Behind her stood Marcus, his tactical vest scorched black and his face covered in third-degree burns from the boat's explosion.
"I told you at the beach house, Eleanor," Marcus growled into her ear, twisting the blade with merciless precision. "The line ends with us."
Eleanor clawed frantically at his arm, spinning out of the grip while drawing a backup pistol from her tactical thigh rig with her left hand.
She fired wildly as she stumbled backward, the bullet grazing Marcus's cheek and gouging a deep trench across his scarred temple.
I didn't hesitate; I scrambled from beneath the table and tackled Eleanor around the waist, slamming her spine against the reinforced blast door.
Her gun flew from her hand, sliding across the floor until it vanished beneath the shattered remains of the computer console.
"Jack, kill her!" Clara screamed from the floor, clutching our crying daughter against the protective shelter of the heavy mahogany desk.
Eleanor struck me viciously across the face with her steel-reinforced elbow, breaking the skin over my eye and making my vision swim with blood.
She slipped from my grasp with serpentine agility, scrambling on her hands and knees toward the narrow service hatch at the back of the bunker.
"You can't save her!" Eleanor shrieked, her voice cracking with insane, hysterical laughter as blood dripped from her pierced shoulder.
"Father is already waiting in Zurich! He controls the Swiss security teams! He's going to wipe Mother out whether you surrender or not!"
Marcus lunged forward to seize her ankle, but Eleanor kicked violently, catching his wounded shoulder and sending him sprawling across the tiles.
She threw herself through the narrow hatch, slamming the heavy iron latch shut from the inside with a resounding, hollow thud.
The emergency sirens suddenly cut out, leaving behind a dreadful, suffocating silence broken only by the ragged wheezing of dying agents.
I ran over to Director Vance, dropping to my knees beside his slumped form to check his carotid pulse, but his eyes were already fixed and glassy.
"He's gone," I whispered, wiping the blood from my forehead as I looked back at Clara.
She crawled out from beneath the desk, checking every inch of our daughter's tiny body to ensure she hadn't been harmed during the crossfire.
Marcus leaned heavily against the wall, his breath coming in shallow, agonizing gasps as blood dripped steadily from his fingertips.
"Zurich," Marcus muttered, his eyes burning with a desperate, dying fire. "We have to get to the Zurich depository before Eleanor does."
"How?" Clara asked, her voice trembling as she held our baby against her heart. "Every federal agency in this building has been compromised."
Marcus pulled a bloody titanium keycard from his tactical pocket, holding it up so the red emergency light reflected off its surface.
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"Father's private jet is sitting at Hanscom Airfield," Marcus said, coughing up dark fluid. "And I still have the flight codes."
***
