Chapter 5 - Crossing the Line
The next day, Kayla asked for the afternoon off to visit her brother.
Gunther agreed instantly, but he insisted on sending a private driver.
Kayla assumed it was a perk of her new high-paying job.
She did not know the driver was actually a highly trained mercenary named Marcus.
Kayla walked into the physical therapy clinic, smiling brightly at the receptionist.
Sam was working on the parallel bars, his face red with exertion but his eyes full of hope.
"Look at you go," Kayla cheered, hugging her little brother tightly.
"I can almost walk on my own, Kay," Sam beamed.
"Whatever new boss you have, you better never quit."
Kayla smiled, but a small knot of guilt twisted in her stomach.
She stayed for two hours, watching Sam regain the strength he had lost.
When it was time to leave, she walked out the front doors of the clinic alone.
The street was unusually quiet.
Marcus and the black town car were parked halfway down the block.
As Kayla stepped onto the sidewalk, a gray van suddenly screeched to a halt right in front of her.
The side door slid open violently.
Two massive men wearing dark tactical gear jumped out, grabbing Kayla by the arms.
She screamed, kicking wildly as they tried to drag her into the van.
"Get in the car, little bird," one of the men growled in a heavy Russian accent.
Before they could pull her inside, a deafening gunshot echoed down the street.
The man holding her right arm collapsed onto the pavement, clutching a shattered kneecap.
Marcus was sprinting down the sidewalk, his weapon raised and firing with lethal precision.
The second Russian panicked, shoving Kayla to the ground and diving into the van.
The van sped off, tires smoking against the asphalt, leaving their wounded comrade bleeding on the street.
Marcus reached Kayla in seconds, pulling her off the ground and shielding her with his body.
"Are you hit?" Marcus demanded, his eyes scanning the perimeter.
"No, no, I am okay," Kayla sobbed, shaking violently.
Marcus shoved her into the back of the town car and hit the gas.
He dialed his encrypted phone.
"Boss," Marcus said, his voice grim.
"The Russians just made a play for her at the clinic."
"She is safe, but they crossed the line."
On the other end of the phone, Gunther Woods shattered the crystal glass he was holding.
Blood dripped down his hand, but he did not feel the pain.
He felt nothing but pure, unadulterated rage.
"Move the brother to the secure compound in the mountains immediately," Gunther ordered.
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"Bring her straight to me."
"I am going to kill every single person with a Russian accent in this city."
