Chapter 18 — THE WOLF AND THE LIONESS
The Wraith moved with silent, deadly precision. The green hue of his night-vision goggles bathed the terrified guests in an eerie, spectral light. He kicked over a chair, sweeping his suppressed submachine gun across the floor, looking for the four-star Admiral and his family.
Beneath the oak table, Rachel held her breath. Leo was miraculously quiet, strapped to her chest, while Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face in Rachel's gown.
The Wraith’s heavy boots stopped directly in front of their table.
He bent down, reaching under the linen tablecloth to drag them out.
In the darkness, Rachel struck.
She didn't hesitate. She drove the heavy, serrated steak knife straight upward, burying it deep into the vulnerable gap between the Wraith’s tactical vest and his thigh.
The man let out a muffled scream, stumbling backward.
Before he could raise his weapon, Rachel surged out from under the table like a coiled spring. She grabbed the heavy silver champagne bucket from the fallen cart and swung it with devastating force, smashing it squarely into the side of the Wraith’s head.
The night-vision goggles shattered, and the mercenary collapsed to the marble floor, unconscious.
Rachel immediately stripped the broken night-vision headset and the submachine gun from his body. She couldn't use the headset, but she knew how to use the weapon. Frank had made sure of it.
"Dad!" Rachel yelled, tossing the heavy weapon through the dark toward the muzzle flashes of her father's pistol.
Thomas caught the submachine gun out of the air. The playing field had just leveled.
"Good girl!" Thomas shouted. He racked the bolt, unleashing a torrent of fully automatic, suppressed fire across the room, pinning the remaining Wraiths behind the catering carts.
Suddenly, the heavy glass skylights high above the Great Hall shattered into a million pieces.
Thick, white ropes dropped from the ceiling, cutting through the darkness.
Frank Dawson and a dozen heavily armed Navy SEALs fast-roped directly into the center of the room. They wore advanced thermal-optic helmets, immune to the EMP blackout.
"Viper Actual on site! Weapons free! Neutralize all hostiles!" Frank's voice roared through a heavy megaphone.
The tide of the battle turned in seconds. The SEALs moved like a mechanized wolf pack, outflanking and utterly overwhelming the remaining mercenaries. The Wraiths, realizing their trap had failed, attempted to fall back toward the kitchen service elevators.
"Hold the perimeter!" Thomas commanded, moving back to Rachel's side. "Are the kids hurt?"
"We're fine," Rachel breathed heavily, her hands shaking from the adrenaline, but her eyes burning with fierce determination. "Did you get them all?"
"Most of them," Frank said, jogging up to the Admiral, his thermal visor flipped up. "But we have a problem. The thermal scans show one hostile bypassed the kitchen and accessed the subterranean service tunnels. He's heading for the metro access grate."
Thomas’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "It's Thorne. He came to watch the execution in person."
"The local police are still five minutes out, and the electronic locks on the main doors are dead-bolted from the EMP," Frank warned. "If he hits the subway tunnels, we lose him in the underground network."
Thomas reloaded his weapon, the metallic click echoing in the dark hall. He looked at Rachel, who was holding her children safely in the center of an impenetrable ring of Navy SEALs.
"Keep them safe, Frank," Thomas ordered.
"Dad, be careful," Rachel said, placing a hand on his arm.
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"He came for my family," Thomas replied, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "I'm going to show him why that was the last mistake he'll ever make."
Thomas Hale turned and sprinted toward the kitchen corridors, disappearing into the shadows.
