Chapter 9 - The Last Stand
My blood ran completely cold as I slowly looked up into the dark branches above.
Daniel was perched perfectly on a thick oak limb, aiming the stolen rifle directly at my chest.
He had used the kidnapped sheriff as a brilliant, sick decoy to draw me into a fatal trap.
"Drop the gun, Claire," he commanded softly, his voice devoid of any human emotion.
I carefully lowered my weapon and let it drop softly into the wet mud.
"You don't have to do this, Daniel," I said, desperately trying to buy time for the troopers to find us.
"Vanessa is dead, the money is frozen, and the entire state police force is hunting you down."
He let out a hollow, terrifying laugh that sent chills down my spine.
"Vanessa was always entirely expendable," he sneered, slowly climbing down from the tree with the gun aimed at me.
"She was just a greedy idiot who made the paperwork easier to file."
"But you, Claire, you are the only real obstacle left between me and absolute freedom."
He stopped ten feet away from me, the barrel of the rifle perfectly steady in the heavy rain.
"Once I kill you, I will finish off our miserable mother," he said coldly.
"Then I will tell the police that Sheriff Miller went insane and shot you both before I took him out in self-defense."
It was a horrifyingly plausible lie, especially with the corrupt sheriff tied up right next to us.
I realized in that agonizing moment that no rescue was coming in time to save me.
I had to rely entirely on the one thing Daniel had chronically underestimated his entire life.
Me.
I subtly shifted my weight into the slick, unstable mud beneath my boots.
"You always were a brilliant storyteller, Danny," I said, using his childhood nickname to violently mock him.
I saw a brief, explosive flash of genuine rage cross his eyes.
In that fraction of a second, I violently kicked the heavy assault rifle lying on the ground near Sheriff Miller.
The weapon spun rapidly through the air, completely distracting Daniel for exactly one heartbeat.
I lunged forward with explosive speed, ignoring the muddy terrain.
I grabbed the burning hot barrel of his rifle and forcefully shoved it upward just as he pulled the trigger.
The deafening gunshot went harmlessly into the dark sky, deafening both of us instantly.
I twisted the barrel brutally, using his own leverage to throw him off balance.
I drove my knee viciously into his ribs, hearing a satisfying crunch as he gasped for air.
He dropped the weapon and swung a wild, desperate punch at my jaw.
I ducked effortlessly, sweeping his legs out from under him with a textbook tactical sweep.
He crashed heavily onto his back in the freezing mud, completely stunned.
Before he could even attempt to recover, I drove my heavy boot down onto his chest, pinning him to the ground.
I drew a pair of heavy steel zip-ties from my belt and aggressively secured his wrists behind his back.
"You are absolutely pathetic," I whispered, pulling him up by his collar and shoving him toward the tree line.
Suddenly, a massive spotlight cut through the trees, completely blinding both of us.
"Drop the suspect and put your hands in the air!" an unfamiliar, harsh voice shouted from the darkness.
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I squinted against the glaring light, realizing with absolute horror that the uniform approaching us was not a state trooper.
It was a private tactical mercenary holding an automatic weapon, and he had a terrifying skull tattoo on his neck.
