Chapter 15 - The Lion's Roar
Glass exploded across the hardwood floor.
Julian fired back through the ruined window frame, his 12-gauge blowing the first tactical diver off the wooden deck into the freezing water.
A flashbang rolled into the hallway.
Julian tried to kick it away, but the detonation caught him squarely, throwing his elderly body against the stone fireplace. He slumped to the floor, disoriented, blood trickling from his ears.
The back door was kicked off its hinges with a sickening splinter of wood.
A towering mercenary in full combat gear entered the room, his suppressed rifle raised. He stepped over Julian's groaning form and advanced toward the bathroom door where the boys were hidden.
Elena stood in the doorway, armed with nothing more than an iron fireplace poker.
"Over my dead body!" she screamed.
The mercenary scoffed, raising his weapon to put a bullet through her skull.
Suddenly, the night sky outside ignited with blinding white light.
The deafening, bone-shaking roar of a twin-engine Sikorsky helicopter drowned out the wind. A 50-caliber door gun opened up from the sky, chewing the mercenary boats on the beach into shredded fiberglass and burning fuel within seconds.
Before the mercenary inside could react, the front window frame was completely obliterated as I breached the room, dropping from a low-hover rope.
I landed like a vengeful demon on the polished floorboards, kinetic energy driving my shoulder directly into the mercenary's chest. We crashed through the dining table, rolling into the hearth.
I pinned his rifle with my left arm, drew my Kimber with my right, and pressed it under his chin.
*Bang.*
The mercenary went limp.
I stood up, chest heaving, smoke rising from my customized trench coat.
The bathroom door creaked open.
Mateo, Leo, Lucas, and Nico stood there, clutching each other, looking at the carnage in the living room.
Elena was sobbing on her knees, praying in frantic Spanish. Julian was slowly sitting up, clutching his bruised ribs.
Mateo looked at the dead mercenary, then looked up at me. He didn't run away. He didn't scream.
He ran forward, his little bare feet slapping against the wood, threw his tiny arms around my blood-spattered leg, and buried his face into my thigh.
"You came back," Mateo cried softly, his small frame shuddering with relief.
I dropped my weapon onto the floor, fell to my knees, and wrapped my massive arms around him. The other three boys—Leo, Lucas, and Nico—scampered forward like ducklings, piling into my chest, their tiny arms wrapping around my neck, my shoulders, my back.
I buried my face in their hair, the scent of baby soap and fear washing over me, and held them with a ferocity that shook my entire body.
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"I will always come back," I swore into their ears, tears finally breaking past my defenses. "Always."
***