Chapter 3 - The Ashford Retaliation
Eleanor’s face didn't crumble,
it simply froze into a mask of stone.
"A daughter?"
she laughed,
the sound like dry leaves skittering on a tombstone.
"That girl is a bastard,
a mistake of your youth."
"She is a threat to everything we have built."
"The Ashfords are calling for blood,
Garrett."
"Arthur Ashford is at the church,
and he has already given the order to seize our ports."
"We are at war because of a waitress and her brat."
Garrett began to walk down the stairs,
one slow step at a time.
"The only mistake I made was believing you,"
he said.
"The Ashfords can take the ports."
"They can take the money."
"But they will never touch my family."
Suddenly,
the windows in the foyer shattered inward.
The sound of gunfire erupted,
not from Eleanor's guards,
but from outside.
"Get down!"
Wesley shouted,
tackling Garrett to the marble floor.
The Ashfords had arrived,
and they weren't waiting for a formal declaration of war.
They had followed Eleanor's helicopter,
using her as a beacon to strike at the heart of the Hail estate.
A smoke grenade rolled across the floor,
filling the air with thick,
acrid clouds.
Garrett crawled toward the security panel near the wall.
"Wesley,
get Mave and Posie to the bunker!"
he yelled over the deafening noise of the assault.
"I'm not leaving you,
boss!"
"That’s an order!"
Garrett slammed his hand against the emergency switch.
Heavy steel shutters began to slide down over the windows and doors.
He grabbed a handgun from the hidden compartment in the wall.
He wasn't a businessman anymore.
He was a soldier protecting his nest.
Outside,
the Ashford mercenaries were moving through the smoke.
They were professional,
efficient,
and deadly.
Garrett saw a flash of red—Coraline.
She was standing in the rain,
holding a tactical radio,
her wedding dress now soaked and grey.
She looked like a vengeful spirit.
"Kill them all!"
her voice crackled through the comms of a fallen guard.
"Leave no one alive!"
Garrett fired into the smoke,
feeling the kick of the gun in his palm.
He saw two men fall.
But more were coming.
His mother was huddled under a table,
screaming for her guards,
but they were being picked off one by one.
The Hail empire was bleeding.
Garrett moved through the shadows of his own home,
knowing every corner,
every secret passage.
He reached the private wing just as an Ashford soldier was kicking in the door.
Garrett didn't hesitate.
He fired three times.
The soldier collapsed,
his blood staining the white carpet.
Inside,
the room was empty.
Mave and Posie were gone.
Panic flared in his chest,
hotter than the gunfire.
Then he saw the small,
unobtrusive door to the servant's passage was open.
Wesley had gotten them out.
He felt a momentary surge of relief,
but it was cut short by a cold voice behind him.
"You should have married me,
Garrett."
He turned slowly.
Coraline stood in the doorway,
a silver pistol aimed at his heart.
Her hair was matted to her face,
and her eyes were vacant,
lost to the madness of her father's pride.
"We would have been gods,"
she whispered.
"Instead,
you chose a life of poverty and a child that will never have a future."
"She has a future,"
Garrett said,
his voice steady despite the gun pointed at him.
"Because she has a father who actually loves her."
"Love is a weakness,"
Coraline spat.
"My father is burning your ships."
"My brothers are taking your banks."
"You are a king with nothing left but a damp tuxedo."
"I still have the gun in my hand,
Coraline."
She laughed,
a high-pitched,
erratic sound.
"Then use it."
"Because I'm not leaving this house until you're dead."
A massive explosion rocked the foundation of the house.
The chandelier above them groaned and began to fall.
Garrett lunged forward,
not to kill,
May you like
but to survive.
The world went black as the glass and metal crashed down around them.
