Chapter 37 - The Fortress of Iron and Salt

Under the cover of howling wind and torrential rain, Julian’s strike team moved with terrifying efficiency.

Silenced shots eliminated the two guards patrolling the perimeter fence. We slipped through the rusted iron gate, keeping low against the shadows of the granite retaining wall. The roar of the crashing surf masked our footfalls as we navigated toward the cellar entrance near the base of the lighthouse tower.

Julian breached the reinforced cellar door with a miniature hydraulic ram. The heavy iron door popped with a muffled hiss.

Inside, the cellar smelled of damp stone and salt. Two mercenary guards sat at a folding table playing cards, an automatic shotgun leaning against the wall beside them. Before they could even turn their heads, Julian and his team swarmed the room, neutralizing both men without firing a single lethal round.

Tied to a rusted support pillar sat Evelyn’s daughter, bound and gagged, shivering uncontrollably from hypothermia.

I rushed forward, slicing through the zip-ties with a tactical blade and pulling the gag from her mouth.

"Shh, you're safe," I whispered, wrapping my thermal jacket around her shaking shoulders. "Your mother sent us. You're going home."

The girl wept, burying her face into my chest just as Leo had done hours before. Julian signaled two of his operatives. "Escort the hostage to the extraction boat immediately! Clara and I will secure the upper level."

As the operatives led the girl out into the storm, a sudden screech of feedback blared through the compound's industrial intercom system.

Arthur’s voice boomed down from the speakers above, dripping with smug superiority:

May you like

My fiancé let his friend chop off my mother’s waist-length

My husband spent the night with another woman

My husband brought his mistress to our nine-year-old daughter’s dance

*"Impressive, Clara. Truly impressive. You always were more resourceful than my foolish son. But did you really think I didn't see you coming on my radar? Come up to the observation deck, my dear. Let us settle this account face-to-face... unless you want my yacht's automated turret to vaporize your extraction team before they even touch the water."*

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