Chapter 18 - The Siege
Tear gas canisters shattered through the ancient, colorful glass, filling the cathedral with blinding, choking white smoke.
Eleanor's mercenaries shouted in panic, blindly raising their automatic weapons and firing into the haze.
The heavy front doors of the church were blown entirely off their iron hinges by a devastating explosive charge.
Vincent Rossi walked through the smoke and raining debris like an avenging angel, flanked by Elias and two dozen heavily armored enforcers.
The sanctuary instantly transformed into an apocalyptic war zone, the deafening roar of gunfire drowning out the pounding rain outside.
Wooden pews were shredded into splinters as tracer rounds violently illuminated the dark, holy space.
Harper dropped to her knees, covering her ears as bullets tore through the plaster columns right above her head.
Vincent moved with terrifying, calculated precision, putting down three mercenaries with flawless headshots before taking cover behind a marble baptismal font.
Eleanor did not cower; she smoothly drew her own suppressed weapon and fired relentlessly toward Vincent's position, completely unfazed by the chaos.
She grabbed Harper by the collar of her soaked shirt and dragged her brutally behind the massive stone altar.
Eleanor screamed over the gunfire that this was Harper's defining moment, the choice between being a victim and being a queen.
She ordered her daughter to flank Vincent through the side sacristy and execute him while he was pinned down by the mercenaries.
Harper looked at the silver revolver trembling violently in her hands.
She looked at her mother, seeing nothing but a hollow, power-hungry demon wearing human skin.
Then she looked through the swirling smoke and saw Vincent.
He was bleeding from a graze on his cheek, risking his own life to pull a wounded Elias to safety behind a crumbling pillar.
He was a violent, dangerous man, but he had protected her, shielded her with his own body, and offered her the only genuine honesty she had ever known.
Harper stood up slowly from behind the altar, her finger slipping firmly onto the trigger of the heavy revolver.
She locked eyes with Eleanor, the terrified waitress completely vanishing from her soul, replaced by the hardened survivor.
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She told her mother that she was absolutely right about one thing.
It was time to choose her family.
