Chapter 8 - THE TRAP SPRINGS
Before Nell could answer, the heavy double doors of the dining room flew open with a deafening crash.
Abel staggered into the room, blood streaming down the side of his face from a deep gash on his temple, his jacket torn at the shoulder.
"Boss," Abel gasped, clutching his side where a dark stain was spreading rapidly across his white shirt. "They breached the south gate. A full hit squad. Vain didn't send messengers this time. He sent an army."
Rafe didn't panic. He didn't even stand up immediately.
His face went from calm to an icy, absolute stillness that was far more terrifying than rage.
"How many?" Rafe asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
"At least twenty," Abel wheezed, leaning against the doorframe. "They bypassed the security grid. Someone on the inside gave them the access codes."
Rafe stood up so fast his chair tipped over backward, hitting the Persian rug with a heavy thud. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a heavy Beretta pistol, checking the magazine with a practiced click.
He looked across the table at Nell.
"Stay under this table," Rafe ordered, his tone absolute. "If anyone other than me or Abel opens this door, you put a bullet between their eyes. Do you understand?"
"I'm not hiding," Nell said, standing up and reaching into her pocket, where her hand closed around a small, snub-nosed revolver she had taken from her father's old lockbox months ago. "My father didn't hide, and neither do I."
Rafe looked at her for a fraction of a second—a look that held something dangerously close to respect—before nodding once.
"Stay behind me then," he said.
The sound of gunfire echoed through the grand hallways outside—the sharp, distinct crack of automatic rifles mixed with the heavy boom of shotguns.
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The battle for Ravenscliffe had begun.
THE END OF CHAPTER 8
