Chapter 8 - The Hostage Exchange
Harper froze in absolute terror as Derek stepped into the dusty cabin.
He looked completely unhinged, his expensive suit wrinkled and his eyes burning with frantic desperation.
He aimed the heavy barrel of the shotgun directly at Roman, who was still bleeding heavily on the sofa.
"You really thought you could hide from me in this dump?" Derek mocked, kicking the broken door aside.
Roman did not flinch, his face completely calm despite staring down a loaded weapon.
"You are a dead man, Derek," Roman stated smoothly, leaning back against the cushions.
Derek laughed a sharp, manic laugh that echoed in the small room.
"I’m the one holding the gun, Falco," Derek sneered, stepping closer.
He turned his crazy eyes toward Harper, his victorious smile faltering for a fraction of a second.
"Get over here, Harper," Derek ordered, gesturing violently with the barrel of the shotgun.
"We are going to the bank right now to authorize the wire transfer."
Harper stood her ground, refusing to move a single inch toward the man who had abused her for years.
"I am not going anywhere with you, Derek," Harper said, her voice surprisingly steady.
Derek’s face flushed with sudden, volatile anger, the familiar vein in his neck bulging aggressively.
"You belong to me!" Derek screamed, taking a threatening step toward her.
Before he could reach her, Roman slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black remote control.
"I wouldn't take another step if I were you, Derek," Roman warned quietly.
Derek stopped, staring at the remote with a mixture of confusion and sudden fear.
"What the hell is that?" Derek demanded, pointing the shotgun back at Roman.
"It is the detonator for the explosive charges I had my men plant underneath your mother's house an hour ago," Roman lied flawlessly.
Harper gasped, knowing Roman was completely bluffing to buy them time.
Derek’s face went completely pale, his bravado instantly crumbling at the threat to his family.
"You’re lying," Derek stammered, his hands shaking violently on the weapon.
Roman offered a cold, ruthless smile that did not reach his dead eyes.
"Press the button and find out," Roman challenged, tossing the remote directly onto the floor between them.
Derek instinctively looked down at the remote, completely distracted for a fraction of a second.
Harper did not hesitate.
She grabbed a heavy iron fireplace poker from the hearth and swung it with every ounce of strength she possessed.
The heavy iron bar struck Derek squarely in the side of the head with a sickening crunch.
Derek collapsed to the floor instantly, dropping the shotgun as he fell entirely unconscious.
Harper stood over his bleeding body, dropping the poker from her trembling hands, panting heavily.
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Roman watched her with absolute, undisguised admiration, a genuine spark of respect lighting up his dark eyes.
Suddenly, the deafening roar of helicopter blades shook the entire cabin, completely drowning out the silence.
