Chapter 8 - The Warehouse Siege
Gunfire erupted, the deafening cracks echoing off the high metal ceilings of the warehouse. Sparks rained down as bullets ripped through the steel scaffolding above us. I hit the concrete floor, my ears ringing, the brass key burning a hole in my pocket.
"Stay low!" Thomas yelled, grabbing my collar and dragging me behind a stack of rusted shipping crates. He popped out of cover, firing three rapid, precise shots. Two of the masked men went down.
"How did they find us?" I shouted over the noise, my hands trembling as I drew the Glock Thomas had given me.
"The car," Thomas grunted, ejecting a spent magazine and slamming a fresh one in. "They must have put a GPS tracker on the SUV while we were at the estate. My mistake. It won't happen again."
"Give up the boy, Thomas!" a voice boomed from a megaphone outside. I recognized that voice instantly. It was my Uncle Robert. He was standing safely behind the armored truck, wearing a custom bulletproof vest over his designer suit. "Give him up, and the syndicate lets you walk away! You have my word!"
"Your word is worth less than dirt, Robert!" Thomas yelled back. He looked at me, his eyes fierce. "Elias, there is a storm drain hatch at the back of the building. It leads to the city sewer system. You have to go. Now."
"I am not leaving you here!" I refused, gripping my gun.
"You are the legacy, Elias!" Thomas barked, grabbing my face so I was forced to look at him. "If you die, Robert wins. The syndicate wins. Your grandfather’s death means nothing. Go! Get to Geneva. Destroy them."
Tears blurred my vision. I nodded slowly.
"On my mark, I'm going to lay down covering fire. You run like hell," Thomas said. He pulled a smoke grenade from his tactical vest, pulled the pin, and hurled it into the center of the warehouse. Thick, blinding white smoke instantly flooded the room.
"Go!" Thomas roared, standing up and firing relentlessly into the smoke.
May you like
I scrambled backward, keeping my head down, and sprinted toward the back wall. I found the heavy iron grate of the storm drain, hauled it open, and threw myself into the dark, foul-smelling tunnel just as a deafening explosion rocked the warehouse above.
I didn't look back. I ran into the darkness, the echoes of gunfire fading behind me. I was completely alone.
