Chapter 9 - The Dawn of Justice
For forty-five agonizing minutes, Ethan and I sat together on the small leather bench inside the panic room, holding each other in the quiet, climate-controlled silence.
I monitored the estate’s security camera feeds on the wall screens.
I watched as Marco and Nathan’s elite security force swept through the grand hallways, neutralizing the Moretti mercenaries with terrifying efficiency. I watched Nathan move through his home like an unstoppable force, protecting his sanctuary with lethal precision.
By 3:30 AM, the red flashing emergency lights on the camera feeds turned to steady blue.
Federal agents and Chicago SWAT teams poured onto the estate lawn, taking custody of the surviving attackers and securing the grounds.
The steel door of the panic room hissed loudly as the hydraulic seal released.
The door slid open.
Nathan stood in the opening.
His shirt was torn, his left arm was wrapped in a bloody bandage, and dark soot covered his cheekbone—but his eyes were clear, bright, and completely focused on us.
"Daddy!" Ethan cried out, letting go of my blanket and running—actually running—across the small room into his father's arms!
Nathan dropped to his knees, catching Ethan in a tight, desperate embrace, burying his face in his son's neck as tears finally washed clean paths through the soot on his face.
"I've got you, buddy," Nathan choked out, his voice cracking with raw emotion. "I've got you. It's over."
I stood near the bench, wiping my own tears away, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief wash over my body.
Nathan looked up from Ethan, reaching out his long, strong right arm toward me.
"Vivi," he whispered. "Come here."
May you like
I didn't hesitate.
I walked forward and fell to my knees beside them, wrapping my arms around both Nathan and Ethan. Nathan pulled us both against his broad chest, holding us as if the entire world outside no longer existed.
