Chapter 17 - The Ambush on Route 9
Marcus Boyd stepped into the room, his tactical jacket soaked with rain, his sidearm already unholstered.
"We have to move. Now," Boyd barked.
"What's wrong?" Julian demanded, instinctively placing his body between Boyd and me.
"Alistair’s private security detail just breached the hospital parking structure," Boyd said, his voice clipped and urgent. "They killed two off-duty officers at the east gate. They aren't trying to finish Matthias off—they know Elena is here. They’re cutting off every exit."
"The baby," I gasped, the world spinning. "Maya—"
"Maya is secure at the safe house," Boyd confirmed rapidly. "They don't have that address yet. But if they take Elena, they have leverage over the entire estate. We take the service elevator down to the basement morgue bay. Move!"
Matthias looked up at me from the bed, his breathing shallow, his fingers clawing at the white hospital sheets. "Elena... save our daughter. Don't... don't let him... turn her into them."
I looked at him for one final second. "She will never know your darkness, Matthias. I promise you that."
We ran.
We burst through the hospital's underground loading dock just as black tactical SUVs entered the lower ramp. Gunfire erupted, echoing like cannon shots off the damp concrete walls. Julian grabbed my arm, shoving me down behind a steel recycling container as Boyd returned fire, his semi-automatic pistol barking three precise rounds that shattered the windshield of the lead SUV.
"Get to the sedan! Go!" Boyd roared, swapping magazines with seamless military speed.
Julian pulled me through the rain-slicked utility alley toward our car. We scrambled inside, the engine roaring to life just as bullets pinged off the armored trunk. Julian threw the car into reverse, tires screeching against the asphalt, before spinning the wheel and hurtling out onto the rain-drenched tarmac of Route 9.
"Hold on!" Julian shouted.
Through the rear window, I saw two black SUVs tearing out of the hospital driveway in pursuit, their high-beam headlights blinding in the rearview mirrors.
The rain was falling in blinding sheets, turning the winding two-lane highway through Westchester into a river of black mud and rushing water. The first SUV rammed our rear bumper with bone-shattering force. My head snapped back against the headrest, my seatbelt locking tight.
"Julian!"
"I've got it!" he gritted out, fighting the steering wheel as the sedan fishtailed violently across the double yellow lines.
The second SUV pulled up alongside us, its tinted passenger window rolling down. The black barrel of a tactical shotgun emerged through the rain.
"Get down!" Julian screamed, letting go of the steering wheel with one hand and throwing his entire upper body across my lap, pinning me down against the passenger seat.
The shotgun blasted. The driver’s side window shattered into a thousand jagged diamonds. Julian let out a sharp, choked gasp of agony as glass and lead tore into his shoulder.
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The car veered violently off the highway, crashing through a wooden guardrail and plunging down a steep, wooded ravine toward the black, rushing waters of the Croton River below.
***
