Chapter 12 - Shattered Glass And Smoke

The second kick blew the latch straight out of the rotting jamb, sending splintered wood flying across the cramped room. Dust and gray light swirled as a masked figure stepped through the frame, weapon raised. Leo didn't hesitate. He fired twice through the drywall partition, the deafening cracks of gunfire shaking the tiny cabin and forcing the intruder back onto the porch with a sharp cry of pain.

"Move!" Leo yelled, grabbing my hand and yanking me toward the rear corner where a pantry door hung loosely on a single hinge.

Another round of gunfire chewed through the exterior wall, wood splinters raining down on our shoulders like hail. Shouts echoed from the front yard as more enforcers converged on our position, realizing the element of surprise was gone. I ducked low, my shoulder scraping against the peeling wallpaper as Leo kicked violently at the rotting plywood floor beneath the pantry shelves. With a sharp crack, the weakened boards gave way, revealing a dark, subterranean crawlspace used decades ago by bootleggers.

"Down! Go!" Leo ordered, shoving me into the dark drop before sliding in right behind me just as a barrage of bullets tore through the pantry shelves we had just abandoned.

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We hit the damp earth below, coughing from the heavy smell of mold and turned soil. Overhead, heavy footsteps shook the floorboards as Marcus’s men ransacked the main room, cursing loudly when they found it empty. Leo pulled me tight against the concrete foundation wall, his hand clamped gently over my mouth to quiet my breathing. Every muscle in my body was locked in absolute terror, yet beneath the fear ran a fierce, desperate clarity. We weren't going to die in this dirt cellar.

Slowly, carefully, Leo tracked the sound of the retreating footsteps above. When the noise shifted toward the front porch, he eased us forward toward a rusted ventilation grate leading out into the ravine brush. He drove the butt of his pistol into the rusted iron slats until they snapped, creating just enough space for us to slip out into the undergrowth under the cover of swirling morning fog.