Chapter 9 - The Ambush
"Eliam, where are you?!" I cried into the phone.
"Eve? Oh God, Eve, get out!" he shouted, gunfire crackling faintly in the background. "They're already in the building! Use the fire escape—"
The call was abruptly severed by a sharp burst of static.
A heavy blow struck the apartment door, splintering the frame with a sickening crunch.
"Move!" Clara dragged me by the arm toward the kitchen window that opened onto an iron fire escape.
The front door gave way with an explosive thud. Two men in dark tactical gear burst into the living room, their weapons raised.
"Freeze!" one of them barked.
Clara hurled a heavy ceramic fruit bowl at the lead intruder, striking him square in the chest. We scrambled through the narrow window frame out into the frigid night air just as a silenced gunshot blew through the glass pane above our heads, showering us in glittering shards.
We scrambled down the iron stairs of the fire escape, our hands burning against the frozen metal rails. The second floor was barely ten feet above an alleyway filled with industrial dumpsters.
"Jump!" Clara urged, dropping down onto the soft lid of a trash container before rolling onto the asphalt.
I jumped right behind her, pain shooting up my ankles as I landed awkwardly. We sprinted down the narrow alleyway toward the street. But as we reached the mouth of the alley, a black luxury sedan screeched to a halt, blocking our path.
The rear passenger door opened, and a man stepped out into the glow of the streetlamp, leaning heavily on a silver-tipped walking cane.
It was Uncle Raymond.
His silver hair was slicked back, his bespoke coat immaculate. Behind him, Eliam was forced onto his knees on the pavement, his hands zip-tied behind his back, blood streaming from a deep cut above his left eyebrow.
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"Clara, darling," Uncle Raymond said with a cold, grandfatherly smile. "You always were the most troublesome niece. And Evelyn... what a pity you had to drag yourself into your sister's grave."
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