My father told my nine-year-old daughter to leave her chair because it was reserved for his “real” grandchild, but when I placed a blue estate folder beside his Christmas dinner, his smile vanished before he even opened it. / Chapter 108 / 114

Chapter 108 - Blood on the Lindenhof Gravel

Julian’s arm twitched. It was the only warning.

"Secure the child. Kill the others," he commanded.

Before the last syllable left his lips, Marcus acted. He didn't fire at Julian; he threw his entire body weight sideways, slamming Katherine and Maya to the flagstones just as the air above them split with a furious, supersonic hiss. The stone bench where Arthur lay shattered into a blizzard of granite shards under the impact of high-caliber sniper rounds.

"Down! Stay down!" Clara screamed, drawing a compact Glock from beneath her winter coat and opening fire toward the western parapet of the terrace.

The sound of gunfire on the Lindenhof was deafening, amplified by the historic stone walls of the old fortress. Marcus rolled onto his back, bringing his submachine gun to bear on the two operatives advancing from the tree line. A rapid burst of three rounds struck the first operative in the center of his chest rig; the man stumbled backward, his weapon discharging wildly into the snow before he collapsed.

"Maya, crawl!" I shouted over the din, my ears ringing with concussive blasts. "Under the parapet! Now!"

Maya scrambled on her hands and knees across the icy gravel, her boots skidding for purchase. The second operative leveled his rifle directly at her retreating form, but a sudden, bloody hand lunged out from behind the shattered stone bench.

Arthur Vance, his gray hair drenched in sweat and blood, his good arm trembling with an unnatural, dying fury, seized the operative by the ankle.

"She... is my... granddaughter!" the old man screamed, a bloody froth spitting from his lips.

The operative looked down in shock, momentarily off-balance. That split second was all Clara needed. A double-tap to the operative's neck dropped him instantly atop Arthur’s thrashing legs.

"Katherine! The gate!" Clara yelled, reloading on the move, brass casings pinging against the cobblestones. "The western descent toward the river! We can't hold this terrace!"

Julian was already retreating into the shadows of the old church porch, barking into a radio transmitter: "Containment team two, intercept at the Schipfe! Do not let them reach the water!"

Marcus rose to a crouch, his shoulder soaked in fresh blood from an open graze, providing covering fire as we bolted toward the narrow, winding stone stairs that plunged off the western edge of Lindenhof down into the dark alleys of the old town.

"Go, Katherine!" Marcus roared, firing a controlled burst that forced Julian's remaining sniper back behind the trunk of a centuries-old linden tree. "I’m right behind you!"

I grabbed Maya by the waist, hoisting her up as we vaulted the low stone archway leading to the stairs. Behind us, Arthur's ragged voice echoed one last time through the gunfire and the winter wind:

"Julian! Damn you to hell, Julian!"