Chapter 3 - The Ghost Returns
"Hello, little brother," Thomas said, his voice echoing coldly through the phone speaker. My blood turned to absolute ice. My older brother was supposed to be dead, swallowed by the icy waters of the Chicago River after betraying our father. "You always were too sentimental," Thomas sneered, examining his perfectly manicured fingernails. "Miami was a distraction to leave your beautiful home completely unguarded." I gripped the phone so tightly the glass screen nearly cracked. "If you touch my daughters, I will tear you apart piece by piece," I promised him. Thomas laughed a dry, humorless sound. "I already bought your guards, your enforcers, and your technology." "The house is pumping carbon monoxide into the kitchen as we speak." "Goodbye, brother." The screen went completely black. I sniffed the air and smelled the faint, sweet scent of exhaust. "We have less than three minutes before we suffocate," I told Claire. She nodded, grabbing a heavy cast-iron skillet from the stove. She walked over to the electronic keypad controlling the steel shutters and smashed it completely to pieces. Sparks flew from the wall, exposing a bundle of thick colored wires. "Give me the flashlight, Emma," Claire said gently to my youngest child. Emma handed it over without a single word of hesitation. Claire used the bloody forceps to pull a red wire and a blue wire from the wall. "This is going to be loud," she warned us. She crossed the two wires, sending a massive electrical surge through the locking mechanism. The steel shutter covering the kitchen door groaned and slowly rolled upward by two feet. "Go, go, go!" I shouted, pushing the girls under the small gap. I dragged Marcus under the door right before the heavy steel violently slammed back down. We were out of the kitchen, but we were completely trapped in the dark hallway. And at the end of the corridor, three red laser sights pierced the darkness.
