Chapter 3 - The Dark Floor
The heavy oak doors of the penthouse swung open with a terrifying creak.
Declan shoved his massive wooden desk forward to block the entrance.
He drew his custom sidearm and stood directly in front of Gemma.
Heavy combat boots echoed against the marble hallway outside.
Declan counted at least five separate sets of footsteps approaching in the dark.
He quietly asked Gemma if she could walk.
She gritted her teeth and shook her head no.
Declan realized he could not carry her and fight off an armed squad at the same time.
He fired three blind warning shots through the doorway into the hall.
A man screamed in pain, followed by the sound of a heavy body hitting the floor.
Return fire instantly shredded the leather chairs and shattered the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Cold Chicago wind howled into the room, sending glass raining down over the expensive rugs.
Declan grabbed Gemma by the waist and dragged her behind the massive oak bookshelf.
A familiar voice echoed from the bloodstained hallway.
It was Marcus, ordering his men to fan out and kill the boss.
Declan checked his magazine, realizing he only had eight bullets left.
He needed a distraction to get Gemma to the fortified panic room down the hall.
He grabbed a heavy bronze statue and hurled it toward the center of the office.
The mercenaries instinctively fired at the noise, lighting up the room with muzzle flashes.
Declan used the chaos to pull Gemma through a concealed sliding door in the wall.
They stumbled into the narrow, pitch-black maintenance corridor.
Gemma leaned heavily against him, her breathing growing alarmingly shallow.
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Declan pressed his hand against her side and felt fresh, warm blood pouring from a new wound.
One of the stray bullets had caught her directly in the abdomen.
