Chapter 6
"Jamal, don't you dare open that door," Aaliyah ordered, her voice shaking as she backed away, clutching Zariah tightly to her chest.
"I'm not going to," Jamal replied, keeping his weapon trained directly on the center of the heavy steel frame. "But they are going to try."
The sounds of the massacre outside grew closer. The heavy thuds of bodies hitting the floor and the tactical shouts of highly trained men echoed down the corridor. Eleanor hadn't just sent thugs; she had sent a professional hit squad to wipe out Marcus's bloodline while he was away.
Footsteps stopped directly outside their door.
"Breaching charge set," a muffled, mechanical voice announced from the other side.
"Get down!" Jamal screamed, throwing himself behind an overturned heavy oak bookshelf.
Aaliyah dove into the reinforced panic closet, slamming the secondary steel door shut just as a deafening explosion rocked the room. The primary safe room door blew entirely off its hinges, flying across the room and crashing into the far wall. Smoke and dust filled the air, choking the red emergency lights.
Three men in tactical gear poured through the smoke, their weapons raised.
Jamal didn't hesitate. He leaned out from cover and fired three rapid shots. The first attacker caught a bullet in the collarbone and dropped to the floor, screaming.
"Return fire!" the squad leader yelled.
A hail of bullets shredded the room, tearing through the drywall and shattering the furniture. Jamal ducked back, debris raining down on his head. He was pinned down, outgunned, and running out of time.
Inside the panic closet, Aaliyah covered Zariah’s ears, tears streaming down her glowing dark brown skin.
"Is Jamal okay?" Zariah cried loudly.
"Target is in the closet!" one of the attackers shouted, hearing the child's voice. "Suppress the kid, blow the closet door!"
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A mercenary pulled a heavy, metallic explosive charge from his vest and began advancing toward the closet. Jamal popped out to take a shot, but a bullet grazed his shoulder, sending him spinning backward onto the floor, his gun skittering out of reach.
The mercenary smiled, pressing the explosive against the closet door.
