Chapter 7 - The Execution
Adrian stepped into the light of the bunker doorway.
He wasn't bleeding out on the living room floor.
He looked like the grim reaper, his rifle perfectly leveled at his best friend.
Silas froze, but he didn't drop his weapon.
Instead, he pulled Nora tightly against his chest, using her tiny body as a human shield.
He pressed the barrel of his gun against my daughter’s temple.
"Drop the rifle, Adrian!" Silas screamed, sweat dripping down his face.
"Or I paint this bunker with her brains!"
Adrian’s hands didn't shake.
His face was terrifyingly calm.
"You killed my brother," Adrian stated.
It wasn't a question; it was a death sentence.
"He was ruining the business!" Silas yelled defensively.
"I did it for the family!"
"You did it for greed," Adrian replied coldly.
I was lying on the floor, my ribs screaming in pain, watching this nightmare unfold.
Silas’s finger tightened on the trigger.
"I said drop the gun!" Silas roared.
Adrian slowly lowered the barrel of his rifle toward the floor.
Silas smiled triumphantly.
He thought he had won.
But I saw Adrian’s eyes flick toward me for a fraction of a second.
It was a silent command.
I still had the heavy metal flashlight in my hand.
With every ounce of adrenaline left in my body, I swung the flashlight upward.
I smashed it directly into the back of Silas’s knee.
Silas howled in pain as his leg buckled.
His grip on Nora loosened for a split second.
I ripped my daughter from his arms and rolled violently across the floor.
A deafening gunshot echoed in the small concrete room.
I covered Nora, waiting for the pain.
But it was Silas who collapsed to the floor.
Adrian had shot him perfectly through the throat.
Silas choked on his own blood, clutching his neck as he convulsed.
Adrian walked over to the dying man.
He didn't offer any final words of comfort.
He just watched his oldest friend die.
I pulled Nora into my chest, sobbing into her hair.
Adrian turned to us, dropping his rifle.
He knelt beside me, his hands gently framing my face.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion for the first time.
Before I could answer, the walkie-talkie on Silas’s belt crackled to life.
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"Silas, the front gates are breached," a gruff voice announced over the radio.
"Don Moretti is inside the mansion with fifty men."
