Chapter 8 - The Breakthrough
David's smug expression instantly shattered into a mask of pure, unadulterated panic.
He frantically smashed his fingers against the laptop keyboard, desperately trying to abort the total system lockout I had just triggered.
"You stupid, dramatic bitch!" David screamed, raising the heavy pistol to aim it directly at my forehead.
Before his finger could even brush the trigger, Richard Vance lunged forward like a wounded lion.
Despite the bleeding gunshot wound in his shoulder, Richard slammed his full body weight into David's back.
The silenced pistol went off with a quiet thud, burying a bullet harmlessly into the ceiling tiles above my bed.
My father didn't hesitate for a single second; he swung the heavy metal IV pole like a baseball bat.
The thick metal connected solidly with the side of David's skull, dropping the traitor to the linoleum floor in an unconscious heap.
"Good hit, Dad," I breathed heavily, my heart hammering furiously against my ribcage.
Richard kicked the gun away and immediately pulled a pair of zip-ties from his pocket, securing David's wrists tightly behind his back.
"Are you okay, Richard?" my mother asked, rushing over with a clean towel to apply pressure to his bleeding shoulder.
"I'll live, but we don't have time to wait for the paramedics," Richard gritted his teeth in obvious pain.
Chloe suddenly burst through the broken hospital door, her tactical rifle raised and her eyes scanning for threats.
"The hospital is totally secure, and the FBI is rolling up to the lobby right now," Chloe reported breathlessly.
"Amy locked the accounts, which means Henry doesn't have the money to pay off Marcus Thorne," Richard explained quickly.
"Thorne won't let Henry on that private plane without the cash," I realized, a fresh wave of panic washing over me.
"Henry is desperate, backed into a corner, and entirely unpredictable," Chloe warned, tapping her earpiece to receive a live update.
"My team just spotted Henry's black SUV tearing through the perimeter fence at the private airfield."
"He's making a desperate run for Thorne's jet," Richard said, pushing himself up off the blood-stained floor.
"Get a medevac chopper ready, Chloe; we are flying to that airstrip right now," Richard commanded.
"Mr. Vance, you are heavily bleeding, you can't go," Chloe protested fiercely.
Richard looked at me, seeing the absolute devastation and terrifying helplessness burning in my tear-filled eyes.
"I promised a mother I would bring her little girl home, and I intend to keep my word," Richard declared firmly.
He grabbed the tactical radio from Chloe's belt and ordered the helicopter pilots to prep for immediate takeoff.
"Hold on, Emily," I whispered to the empty room as Richard sprinted out the door.
Just then, my laptop chimed loudly with an incoming video call from an unknown, heavily encrypted number.
I hesitantly clicked accept, and the screen flickered to reveal Henry standing on a windy tarmac, holding a terrified Emily by her small wrist.
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"You think you've won, Amy?" Henry screamed over the roar of jet engines, pulling a silver handgun from his jacket.
"If I don't leave on this plane in sixty seconds, I am taking our daughter with me to the grave."
