Chapter 7 - The Master of Puppets
Eleanor froze behind the velvet curtains, pulling Maya down to keep them hidden.
She watched the bizarre scene unfold in her own study.
The police chief lowered the silencer slightly, his cruel smile widening.
“Victoria is just a greedy fool who liked playing pretend,” the chief sneered.
Thomas pressed the glass harder against Lily’s neck, causing a tiny drop of blood to appear.
“I want my money, Richard!” Thomas yelled, losing his refined butler composure.
The police chief, Richard, laughed loudly.
“You really think the syndicate leaves loose ends breathing?”
Before Thomas could reply, Richard pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession.
The silenced gun made a quiet, deadly sound.
Thomas gasped, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed lifelessly to the thick Persian rug.
Lily screamed and scrambled away from the bleeding body.
She crawled under the massive mahogany desk, curling into a terrified ball.
Richard walked slowly toward the desk, reloading his weapon with chilling precision.
“Come out, little bird, you are the last piece of the puzzle,” Richard coaxed.
Eleanor knew she could not wait another second.
She grabbed a heavy brass fireplace poker from the hearth.
She stepped out from behind the curtain and swung the solid brass bar with all her might.
The heavy metal struck Richard’s gun hand, shattering his wrist instantly.
The pistol flew across the room and slid under a heavy leather sofa.
Richard howled in pain, gripping his broken wrist.
He glared at Eleanor with pure, unrestrained hatred.
“You should have died in that cellar, you old hag,” Richard spat.
He lunged at Eleanor, his massive weight knocking her forcefully to the ground.
His large hands wrapped tightly around her throat, cutting off her air completely.
Eleanor thrashed and clawed at his face, but he was too strong.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the study.
Richard’s body went completely rigid before slumping sideways off of Eleanor.
Maya stood over them, holding a shattered glass decanter in her bleeding hands.
Eleanor gasped for air, pulling Maya into a tight hug as Lily ran out from under the desk.
The three generations of women held each other, crying tears of sheer relief.
They had finally defeated the monsters in their home.
But their moment of victory was shattered by the sound of slow, sarcastic clapping.
May you like
Victoria stepped into the doorway, holding a gasoline canister in one hand and a flare gun in the other.
“What a beautiful family reunion,” Victoria smiled, pointing the flare gun at the gasoline-soaked carpet.
