Chapter 14: The Cavalry
Marcus dropped his weapon and fell to his knees in front of the cast-iron stove. His hands were shaking so violently he could barely operate the heavy iron latch.
With a metallic groan, the door swung open.
Lily was curled into a tiny ball, the heavy noise-canceling earmuffs still over her ears, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She was clutching her teddy bear like a lifeline.
"Lily," Marcus choked out, tears finally breaking through his composed facade. He reached in and gently pulled her out into his arms.
Lily opened her eyes. When she saw her father, she let out a broken wail and buried her face in his chest. Marcus wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair, rocking her back and forth amidst the smoke and ruin of the cabin.
"I've got you," he whispered fiercely, pressing kisses to the top of her head. "I've got you, bug. It's over. The bad men are gone. It's over."
From the front deck, a weak groan broke the silence.
Marcus stiffened, keeping Lily shielded behind his body. He looked toward the blown-out door.
Hayes staggered into the doorway, clutching his shoulder. His tactical vest was shredded, and blood soaked his left arm, but he was alive. The contractor leaned against the doorframe, a weak, pain-filled smile touching his lips.
"Told you... they couldn't get past me, boss," Hayes coughed, sliding down the doorframe to a seated position.
"Hayes, you crazy bastard," Marcus breathed, letting out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Hold on. I've got a trauma kit in the bathroom."
"Don't worry about me," Hayes grunted, applying pressure to his shoulder. "Listen."
Marcus paused. In the distance, cutting through the crisp mountain air, he heard it. The rhythmic, heavy thumping of helicopter rotors. Plural.
Within minutes, the sky above the cabin was lit up by the blinding spotlights of three black tactical helicopters. They weren't local police. The side of the lead chopper bore the bold white letters of the FBI. The dead man's switch had worked flawlessly. The intelligence agencies had received the ledger, tracked the origin IP, and scrambled their elite rapid-response teams.
Armed federal agents swarmed the property, securing the perimeter, securing the surviving mercenaries, and calling in medical medevacs.
Two agents entered the cabin, their weapons lowered, their eyes scanning the carnage. They saw the dead mercenary in the floorboards. They saw the bullet holes. And they saw Marcus, sitting on the floor, holding his daughter.
"Marcus Vale?" the lead agent asked, flashing a badge.
"That's me," Marcus said, his voice exhausted, hoarse, but completely steady.
The agent looked at the zip-tied woman under the table. Cassandra was sobbing, her makeup smeared with dirt and blood, screaming that she was a victim.
"Is that Cassandra Montgomery?" the agent asked, disgust lacing his tone.
"Yes," Marcus said, standing up and holding Lily close. "She's an operative for the Petrov Syndicate. She's also the woman who murdered my wife."
The agent nodded. "Take her out of here," he ordered the men behind him.
Cassandra screamed as she was dragged to her feet. "Marcus! You can't do this! I loved you! I loved Lily!"
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Marcus didn't even look at her. He pressed Lily's head to his shoulder so she wouldn't have to see the monster being taken away.
"Get her out of my sight," Marcus said coldly. "And make sure she never sees the sun again."
