Chapter 5 - The Devil's Playground
The timer on the bomb strapped to my sick child read exactly four minutes.
I practically tore the passenger door off its hinges, sprinting toward the rusted metal doors of the warehouse.
Julian caught up to me, grabbing my shoulder to prevent me from running blindly into a fatal trap.
"You have to stay behind me, Claire, these men are highly trained professionals," he ordered strictly.
He kicked the side door open, sweeping the dimly lit interior with the laser sight of his pistol.
The warehouse was filled with towering stacks of wooden pallets and forgotten shipping containers.
We heard a cruel, echoing laugh coming from the center of the massive room.
Standing beneath a flickering industrial light was Marcus, Victoria's chief of security, holding a remote detonator.
My five-year-old daughter Emma was crying softly in the corner, clutching her broken doll in sheer terror.
Brandon sat bravely in the chair, his pale, feverish face covered in sweat as the red numbers ticked down.
"Victoria sends her absolute best regards, Mr. Bennett," Marcus sneered, aiming his gun at my son.
Julian did not hesitate or attempt to negotiate with the ruthless mercenary.
He fired two rapid shots, striking Marcus precisely in the shoulder and the knee.
Marcus screamed in agony, dropping the remote detonator as he collapsed onto the concrete floor.
I sprinted past the gunfire, sliding on my knees to reach the explosive vest strapped to Brandon.
"Julian, I do not know how to stop the timer!" I cried out in absolute panic as the clock hit forty seconds.
Julian rushed over, expertly ripping open the wiring panel of the sophisticated explosive device.
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He pulled a tactical knife from his belt and stared intensely at the red and blue wires.
"If I cut the wrong one, we all die together," Julian whispered, his hand hovering over the wires.
