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When Flint catches the fear on the kids’ faces as Lia gathers them, he stops fighting, and his protective instincts kick in. The others are warriors, but these kids are not. They need our protection.
Quickly, we hustle everyone down the stairs and into the cold garage.
The heavy scent of motor oil and gasoline fills the air, the concrete walls cold and unwelcoming. The kids huddle close, all the bravado gone in the face of another escape from what should have been a place of safety.
As we skirt along the back wall, the sound of heavy boots and muffled voices comes from outside the bay doors, and a loud bang sounds from upstairs.
Alaska flinches, letting out a startled cry, followed by Lia’s quick hushing. The scent of fear fills the air as the kids huddle closer to their foster mom.
We reach the back wall, where a large painting shows swan maidens frolicking in a pond. Flint brushes his hand along the outer frame, and sparks of an active portal dance to life.
A shriek of metal cuts through the garage, followed by a cold blast of air.
“Go!” I hiss, turning to face the intruders.
Flint shoves the kids through, one at a time, with Lia last. “Come on, Darius.”
Heavy boots thunder into the garage just as the roar of Marceau’s shotgun comes from upstairs.
Heart pounding with fear, I let Flint tug me through the portal, the rush of tingles over my skin separating me from those I love.
I just have to trust that they won’t fall in this fight, because only Ga’Vine will be left to bring them back if they do.
home defense
- Pen -
Shadows fill the cabin,the only light coming from the windows where the floodlights blaze in front of the cabin. The rest of the house lies in darkness to confuse our attackers.
I hear them moving through the window next to where I crouch and make out multiple sets of footsteps. Then the cabin door shatters inward, banging against the wall opposite me, and my pulse races with adrenaline.
Marc, from his position behind the dining room table, shoots the first black-clad figure through the door, sending him flying.
My grip tightens on my batons, and I swing low, catching the second intruder’s shins and sweeping his legs out from under him. I deliver a fast tap to the back of his head to make sure he’ll stay down, then roll away from the doorway.
Our walls are bulletproof, but today is not the day we put that to the test.
Three more men rush inside, stepping over their fallen comrades. Marc takes the one in the lead out, but the other uses his body as a shield and fires on me.
I duck behind the kitchen counter, wood exploding where my head had been, and lob a flash grenade back. “Twinkle lights!”
My eyes squeeze shut, the back of my lids flashing red as the grenade goes off. Through muscle memory, I make my way to the other end of the bar, where I grab the shotgun propped against it.
As soon as the flash fades, I duck around the counter and shoot my would-be killer in the chest, slamming his body against the entry wall.
Marc’s shotgun roars again, taking down the last man standing. He falls backward, his mask slipping from his face to reveal pain-filled eyes.
The shot had struck his shoulder instead of center mass, and I dart forward, sweeping the gun he raises to the side. It goes off, the sound deafening in my ear, and slivers of wood rain down around us.
The asshole blew a hole in our ceiling. Angry, I pull back my fist and punch him hard in the jaw, knocking him out.
Marc and I remain frozen, listening for more intruders, but I can’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears. Each shallow, controlled breath pulls in the scent of wood burning in the fireplace and sweet hot chocolate, now muddied by the smell of gunpowder.
In only minutes, our cozy, safe space had been turned into a war zone, all because of the greed of one man and his desperation to kill a child.
I glance back at Marc, our eyes meeting in the dim light of the cabin. He points to his eyes, then the window next to the door, and I rise in a crouch to peer outside just as the floodlights shut off.
I blink to adjust my eyes to the darkness and make out the shadowed outline of cars parked farther down our driveway, blocking the way out.
