Chapter 4 - The Enemy of My Enemy
The man approaching the smoking wreckage was Marcus, Adrian's ruthless head of security.
I recognized the jagged scar running down the side of his neck from a distance.
I kicked frantically at the jammed door, but the crushed metal refused to budge.
Agent Miller was slumped over the steering wheel, completely unconscious and bleeding from a head wound.
I was trapped, unarmed, and completely at the mercy of a professional killer.
Marcus stopped right outside my shattered window, his face completely unreadable.
He raised the weapon slowly, pointing the barrel straight at my temple.
I closed my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me beg for my life.
I braced myself for the final gunshot that would end everything.
Instead of a gunshot, I heard the heavy sound of metal tearing apart.
I opened my eyes and watched in absolute shock as Marcus holstered his weapon.
He grabbed the twisted frame of my car door and ripped it open with terrifying physical strength.
He reached inside, unbuckled my seatbelt, and pulled me out of the wreckage.
I stumbled onto the muddy grass, waiting for him to tie me up or throw me into a trunk.
Marcus simply handed me a loaded spare magazine and a small tactical radio.
He looked at me with cold, dead eyes and said he didn't sign up to kidnap teenage girls.
He explained that Adrian had crossed a massive line by involving an innocent like Lily.
Marcus had daughters of his own, and taking Lily hostage broke the only moral code he still possessed.
He told me we had exactly six minutes before Adrian's private jet was cleared for takeoff.
I quickly checked on Agent Miller, relieved to see his chest rising and falling steadily.
I promised the unconscious agent I would send help as soon as I could.
Marcus pointed to a stolen motorcycle hidden behind a cluster of trees near the embankment.
I hopped onto the back of the bike, wrapping my arms tightly around his tactical vest.
We roared off into the night, flying through the broken perimeter fence of the private airfield.
The wind whipped through my hair as I spotted the sleek, black Gulfstream jet sitting on the runway.
The engines were already whining loudly, preparing to taxi toward the main strip.
We raced across the tarmac, dodging the blinding searchlights sweeping the area.
Marcus pulled a specialized rifle from his back and took aim while steering with one hand.
He fired two perfectly placed shots into the front landing gear of the jet.
The massive tires blew out instantly, causing the nose of the plane to drop violently to the concrete.
Sparks flew into the air as the jet ground to a sudden, violent halt.
We dumped the motorcycle and sprinted toward the main boarding stairs that were still lowered.
Marcus kicked the cabin door open, sweeping his rifle across the luxurious interior.
I ran in right behind him, screaming my sister's name.
But the cabin wasn't occupied by Adrian and a terrified hostage.
Sitting alone in the first-class leather seat, sipping a glass of champagne, was Vanessa.
May you like
She smiled perfectly, lowering her glass as she looked at us.
"You're late," she whispered, pulling a detonator from her designer purse.
