Chapter 50 - Shattered Allegiances
Across the harbor, high up on the old maritime watchtower that guarded the channel entrance, a brilliant blue searchlight suddenly ignited.
The ultra-high-intensity beam swept across the black water, slicing through the storm like a broadsword, locking directly onto the terrace of Harbor House. In the sudden blinding glare of ten million lumens, Victor and his operator were instantly dazzled, their dark tactical visors offering zero protection against the searing whiteout.
"Clara! Now!" I screamed, dropping flat against the wet flagstones.
From the tree line two hundred yards south, the heavy *CRACK* of a high-caliber sniper rifle echoed across the bay.
The operative standing behind Victor jerked violently as a specialized armor-piercing round shattered his shoulder, throwing him backward through the French doors into the ruined study.
Victor roared, firing his shotgun blindly into the blinding light, the heavy buckshot tearing deep gouges into the stone balustrade above my head. But Julian was already moving.
With blinding speed, Julian closed the distance across the wet terrace, his combat knife sliding from its sheath. He drove his shoulder beneath Victor’s raised gun barrel, deflecting the second blast harmlessly into the dark sky, and drove the heavy pommel of the blade directly into Victor’s jaw.
The older man staggered, spitting blood, his massive frame slamming against the decorative iron pillars of the terrace pergola. "Traitor!" Victor snarled, swinging a heavy tactical punch that caught Julian across the temple, sending him skidding across the slick stone.
Victor lunged for his fallen shotgun, his hands scrambling across the wet flagstones.
I didn't wait. I pushed myself up from the rain-soaked floor, my torn gown trailing behind me like a battle standard, grabbed the heavy bronze bust that Valerie had knocked to the floor moments earlier, and brought it down with all the fury of my father’s legacy onto Victor’s outstretched arm.
The bone snapped with a sickening crunch. Victor howled in agony, rolling onto his back, clutching his shattered forearm against his chest as Julian rose to his feet, retrieving his sidearm and pressing the hot suppressor directly against the bridge of his uncle’s nose.
"Twelve years of lies," Julian whispered, his voice trembling with a deadly, ice-cold rage. "It ends tonight, Victor."
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"Don't kill him, Julian," I said, breathing heavily, the rain washing the sweat and blood from my forehead. "Death is too clean for men like him and Daniel. Let the world see what crawled out of the shadows."
***
