Chapter 3 - Shadows in Ohio
The SUV roared to life, its tires screeching against the wet asphalt as it tore out of the diner parking lot. My hands were gripping the leather seat so tightly my knuckles turned white. Through the tinted windows, the familiar streets of my small town blurred into a streak of grey and neon.
"Harrison, please, you don't understand," I sobbed, tears finally spilling down my cheeks. "Ethan's heart can't take this. If they scare him, if his heart rate spikes too high, he could go into cardiac arrest!"
"I know, Claire. I have a specialized medical transport trailing us," Harrison said, his face hard as stone as he listened to the earpiece in his left ear. He was tapping a command onto a tablet interface. "Alpha leader, report. Do not let them enter the house."
"We are taking fire, sir," the voice on the radio replied, accompanied by the distinct, muffled pops of suppressed gunfire. "They are professionals. They aren't trying to kidnap the boy; they have orders to eliminate the asset."
"Eliminate?" I choked out, the air leaving my lungs. "He's just a kid! He doesn't even know who Arthur Vanguard is!"
"To Silas Vanguard, any blood relative of Arthur is a threat to his absolute control over the company," Harrison explained, his jaw clenched. "If Arthur's bloodline is proven to be alive, a legal trigger clause in the corporate charter automatically freezes Silas's assets and transfers voting power to a trust in your name. Silas would lose everything overnight. He'd rather commit murder than lose his empire."
The SUV veered violently around a sharp corner, throwing me against Harrison's chest. For a second, I was hyper-aware of his strength, the solid wall of muscle beneath his shirt, and the faint scent of sandalwood and expensive cologne. He held me securely until the vehicle stabilized.
"We're two minutes away," the driver announced.
As we flew down our narrow, pothole-ridden street, the scene ahead looked like a war zone. Two sleek black sedans were parked crookedly across our front lawn. The front door of our tiny rented house had been kicked off its hinges. Flashlights cut through the dark living room, and muzzle flashes illuminated the rainy night.
Before our SUV even came to a complete stop, Harrison pushed his door open.
"Stay in the vehicle, Claire!" he commanded.
"No way!" I screamed, throwing myself out behind him into the freezing rain.
Harrison didn't argue. He pulled a compact firearm from his jacket with practiced ease, his movements fluid and lethal. Two of his security guards moved with him, forming a protective shield around us as we rushed toward the porch.
A man in a tactical mask stepped out of our front door, raising a rifle. Harrison didn't hesitate. He fired two precise shots. The man slumped against the railing and slid down into the mud. I gasped, covering my mouth, but Harrison kept pushing me forward.
We burst into the house. The living room was trashed. Our old couch was overturned, and glass from our small family photos was shattered across the floor.
"Ethan!" I screamed.
"In the kitchen!" a voice yelled. It was one of Harrison's guards, pinned down behind the kitchen counter.
I ran past the crossfire, ignoring Harrison's shouts for me to get down. I threw myself into the kitchen. There, curled up in the corner behind the refrigerator, was Ethan. His face was ghostly pale, his lips blue, and his hands were clutching his chest as he gasped for air. He was having an attack.
"Claire..." he gasped, his eyes wide with terror. "I can't... breathe."
"I'm here, Ethan! I'm here!" I cried, pulling him into my lap. I reached into my bag for his inhaler and emergency pills, but my hands were shaking so violently I dropped them.
A shadow loomed over us. One of Silas's assassins had circled around through the back door, his pistol pointed directly at Ethan's head. "End of the line, kids," the man growled.
I threw my body over Ethan, bracing for the impact of a bullet.
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A loud bang echoed through the small kitchen. But I didn't feel any pain. I opened my eyes and looked up. Harrison stood in the doorway, his gun smoking, his eyes filled with a terrifying, righteous fury. The assassin fell backward, lifeless.
Harrison dropped his weapon onto its sling and rushed over, kneeling beside us. He immediately took Ethan's pulse. "The medical transport is outside. We need to move him now. His heart is failing."
