Chapter 7 - The Corrupt Chief
Chief Miller pointed his heavy revolver directly at my daughter's chest.
He coldly stated that Arthur Vance was paying him five million dollars to bury us both in the desert today.
I held Maya tightly against my body, shielding her entirely from the lethal barrel of his weapon.
I looked Miller dead in the eye and asked him if money was really worth killing an innocent child.
He laughed a dry, humorless laugh and said absolute power was the only thing that actually mattered.
He ordered me to drop the flash drive on the concrete floor and step away from the child.
I slowly reached into my pocket, pretending to comply with his deadly demands.
Instead of the flash drive, my hand wrapped tightly around the heavy landscaping shovel I had carried down the stairs.
I hurled the shovel like a spear directly at his face with every ounce of strength I had left.
The heavy wooden handle smashed brutally into the bridge of his nose before he could pull the trigger.
Miller screamed in agony as his revolver fired wildly into the concrete wall behind me.
I lunged forward while he was blinded by pain and tackled him aggressively to the bunker floor.
I rained heavy, devastating punches down on his face until he finally dropped the weapon and lost consciousness.
I gasped for air, grabbing his fallen revolver and tucking it securely into my waistband.
I gently picked Maya back up, apologizing softly for the terrifying violence she had to witness.
We slowly climbed the concrete stairs and emerged back into the humid, overgrown greenhouse.
The estate was in total chaos as emergency fire trucks finally arrived to battle the massive brush fire outside.
Thick smoke drifted across the lawns, providing the perfect natural cover for our desperate escape.
I carried my daughter through the dense woods, avoiding the main roads and the flashing police lights.
We eventually reached a small, abandoned hunting cabin deep in the wilderness miles away from the Vance property.
I laid Maya down on an old dusty mattress and wrapped her in a torn wool blanket to keep her warm.
I finally had a moment to breathe and plan my ultimate revenge against the Vance family empire.
I took the flash drive from my pocket and realized I needed to broadcast this footage to the entire world.
I found an old, battered radio transmitter sitting on a wooden table in the corner of the cabin.
I began stripping the wires, hoping to connect my stolen medical flash drive to the analog broadcast system.
The heavy wooden door of the cabin suddenly violently kicked open, tearing the hinges from the frame.
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Ethan Vance stood in the doorway, bleeding from a massive head wound and holding a lit Molotov cocktail.
He smiled insanely and threw the flaming bottle directly onto the wooden floorboards between me and my daughter.
