Chapter 24 - Smoke and Mirrors on the Atlantic
The escape tunnel was a damp, narrow chute carved directly through the ancient granite of the Montauk bluffs. Maria held Sophie tightly against her hip, navigating the slick stone steps in near-total darkness, guided only by the dim red beam of a tactical flashlight clamped in her teeth. Behind her, Evelyn hobbled forward, gritting her teeth against the agony of her gunshot wound.
Above them, the earth roared.
The sound was not an explosion, but a sickening mechanical scream as Thomas’s demolition team finally breached the vault door.
Ethan stood forty yards behind them at the junction of the tunnel, kneeling behind a sandbag barricade he had constructed years prior. In his hands, he held an HK416 assault rifle, the barrel resting level across the sandbags, aimed directly at the gaping hole of the breached bunker.
Through the drifting sulfur smoke, the first tactical point-man emerged—clad in full matte-black body armor, night-vision goggles glowing green.
Ethan didn’t hesitate.
*Crack-crack-crack.*
Three rounds punched through the operator's throat and chest. The man dropped instantly. Two more operators surged through the breach, laying down heavy suppressive fire that splintered the concrete tunnel walls around Ethan.
Ethan answered with ruthless, calculated precision. He didn't fire in bursts of panic; he fired in rhythmic, double-tap executions. Another soldier fell, screaming as high-velocity rounds shattered his pelvis.
From the smoke behind the dead operators, Thomas Hawthorne stepped forward. He wasn't wearing tactical armor. He wore an immaculate charcoal overcoat, his hands resting casually inside his pockets, protected by two towering mercenaries holding ballistic riot shields.
“You’re fighting for a ghost, Ethan!” Thomas shouted, his voice echoing through the claustrophobic stone corridor. “You think you’re a martyr? You think Maria and Sophie are going to sail away into the sunset? Look out the sea cove, little brother! Look at the water!”
Ethan’s heart seized.
Fifty yards down the tunnel, Maria reached the iron grate overlooking the sea cave. She shoved the rusted bars open, stepping out onto the narrow rock ledge where the black zodiac inflatable was moored.
The Atlantic was churning in a violent storm, eight-foot swells crashing against the jagged rocks. But worse than the waves was the sight waiting in the bay.
Two hundred yards off the cliffs, cutting through the heavy fog, hovered a massive two-hundred-foot private superyacht—the *Leviathan*. Mounted on its bow was a remote-controlled naval autocannon, its thermal camera trained directly on the mouth of the sea cave.
They were trapped. The water was an execution zone.
“Ethan!” Maria’s frantic voice crackled over the tactical earpiece. “The boat is pinned! There’s an offshore vessel blocking the cove! If we launch the zodiac, they’ll vaporize us with heavy artillery!”
Ethan looked at Thomas through the smoke.
Thomas smiled, revealing teeth stained with cigar smoke. “Did you really think I didn’t know about your little rabbit hole? I built this estate with our father thirty years ago, Ethan. I know every rat pipe under the floorboards.”
Thomas raised his right hand. Beside him, a mercenary loaded a tear-gas canister into an under-barrel launcher.
“Drop the rifle, Ethan,” Thomas said softly. “Drop it, or I order the *Leviathan* to fire a 30mm high-explosive barrage directly into that sea cave. Your precious nanny and the little girl will be reduced to chum for the sharks.”
Ethan’s fingers tightened on the trigger of his rifle. His knuckles turned stark white. Every fiber of his being screamed to put a bullet between his brother’s arrogant eyes.
*Five seconds,* Ethan calculated. *It takes four seconds for an artillery shell to impact from the yacht. Sophie is in the splash zone.*
Slowly, deliberately, Ethan released the magazine release. The thirty-round magazine clattered against the stone floor.
He dropped the rifle.
“Wise boy,” Thomas purred, motioning with his fingers.
Four heavily armed contractors swarmed Ethan, kicking his legs out from beneath him and slamming his face into the wet concrete. Heavy zip-ties bit into his wrists, drawing blood as they hoisted him roughly to his feet.
May you like
Thomas walked up to Ethan, grabbing him by the hair and pulling his head back until their eyes met.
“Now,” Thomas whispered, slapping Ethan’s cheek with mocking gentleness. “Let’s go bring my daughter home.”
