Chapter 5 - The Battle for the EstateThe north garden was normally a place of tranquil marble statues and blooming hydrangeas. Tonight, under the pouring rain and flashing red emergency lights, it became a war zone.
Eight heavily armed mercenaries wearing tactical gear and night-vision goggles cut through the perimeter chain-link fence, moving swiftly toward the glass patio doors of the main house. They were led by Viktor Kozlov’s chief operative, a massive brute named Alexei.
"Clear the ground floor!" Alexei barked into his radio comms. "Find the woman and the kids! Viktor wants them alive as leverage!"
The glass patio doors suddenly slid open.
Sitting in the middle of the dark, cavernous living room, bathed in the red glow of the emergency lights, was Richard Bennett.
Alexei stopped, his men raising their assault rifles. Alexei let out a mocking laugh.
"Well, well," Alexei sneered, stepping into the living room, water dripping from his tactical vest. "The mighty Richard Bennett. Alone in his little rolling chair. Where are your guards, mobster? Where is your pretty new girlfriend?"
Richard sat motionless, his hands resting casually on the controls of his chair.
"My guards are securing my family," Richard said calmly, his voice ringing clearly through the room above the sound of rain. "And my girlfriend is currently safe behind four inches of solid titanium."
"It doesn't matter," Alexei grinned, raising his weapon. "Once we take you, she’ll come out crying to save your life. Put your hands behind your head, cripple."
"I have a rule, Alexei," Richard said softly.
Alexei blinked. "What?"
"Never pity me," Richard quoted softly.
He pressed the primary trigger button on his armrest.
The automated dual submachine guns mounted beneath his wheelchair roared to life with terrifying precision. A hail of silenced, high-velocity rounds swept across the living room in a tight, devastating arc.
Before Alexei’s men could even react, four of the mercenaries collapsed to the marble floor, their weapons clattering uselessly against the stone.
The remaining four mercenaries scrambled behind marble pillars, blind-firing into the living room in utter panic.
"He’s mounted automated turrets on the chair!" one mercenary screamed into his radio. "Fallback! Fallback!"
"Nobody falls back!" Viktor Kozlov’s voice suddenly boomed through the open patio doors.
Viktor himself stepped into the room, holding a high-caliber handgun, flanked by two more heavily armed men. His face was twisted in psychotic rage.
"You broke my legs four years ago, Richard!" Viktor screamed, aiming his gun directly at Richard’s chest. "Tonight, I take your head!"
"You always were an idiot, Viktor," Richard said, not flinching as the gun pointed at his heart. "You thought my weakness was Laura."
"She is your weakness!" Viktor yelled.
"No," a clear, strong voice echoed from the top of the grand balcony.
Viktor looked up in shock.
Standing on the second-floor balcony, holding a heavy 12-gauge tactical shotgun that Harrison had taught her to use during her weeks at the estate, was Laura Hayes.
Her face was pale, her hands were steady, and her eyes burned with the protective fury of a mother defending her family.
"Laura! No!" Richard yelled in alarm.
"I spent twenty years running, Richie!" Laura shouted down, racking the shotgun slide back with a loud, terrifying CLACK-CLACK that echoed through the high ceilings. "I’m done running!"
Before Viktor could turn his weapon toward the balcony, Laura pulled the trigger.
The deafening roar of the shotgun blast shattered the massive crystal chandelier hanging directly above Viktor’s head. Thousands of pounds of crystal, iron, and heavy glass detached from the ceiling, crashing down onto Viktor and his remaining men in a blinding avalanche of destruction.
Dust and crushed crystal filled the room.
When the smoke cleared, Viktor was pinned beneath three hundred pounds of iron chandelier framework, his leg crushed, his weapon thrown ten feet away across the floor. His surviving men were disarmed and pinned to the ground by Harrison and a dozen Bennett security officers who poured into the room through the side entrances.
Laura dropped the empty shotgun, sprinted down the grand curved staircase, and threw herself onto her knees beside Richard’s wheelchair.
She wrapped her arms frantically around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, sobbing with adrenaline and relief.
"Richie! Richie, are you okay?!" she cried, checking his arms, his chest, his face for any injuries.
Richard wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her against his heart, his chest heaving as he buried his face in her hair.
"I’m okay," Richard whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of shock, awe, and boundless love. "My God, Laura... you saved my life."
Harrison walked over, stepping over the debris, and looked down at Viktor Kozlov, who was groaning in defeat under the shattered chandelier.
"Federal agents and Chicago PD are entering the main gates now, sir," Harrison reported, turning to Richard. "Viktor Kozlov’s entire network has been exposed by the evidence we seized from Greg Hayes's phone. It’s over. Every last one of them is going to federal prison for life."
Richard didn't look at Viktor. He didn't look at the police lights flashing through the broken glass doors.
He just looked at Laura, holding her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumb.
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"You shot a chandelier," Richard murmured, a breathless laugh escaping his lips.
"It was in the way," Laura smiled through her tears.
