Chapter 9 - THE WOLVES AT THE DOOR
We had exactly three days of peace before the war found us. Julian's trackers eventually located the helicopter's flight path. The warning came as a distant, mechanical hum echoing off the snowy peaks just before dawn. Snowmobiles.
"Get Elara into the basement bunker," Lucas ordered, tossing me a loaded sidearm. He was already strapping on a tactical vest, his eyes dead and focused. The billionaire was gone; the apex predator remained.
I hurried down the wooden stairs, securing the heavy steel door behind me. I sat in the darkness, clutching the terrified infant to my chest, listening to the muffled sounds of chaos above. The staccato pop of gunfire. The shattering of glass. The heavy thud of bodies hitting the floorboards.
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Every second felt like an eternity. I prayed to whatever forces were left in the universe not to leave me alone again. I aimed the gun at the steel door, ready to fire at anything that wasn't Lucas.
Suddenly, the gunfire stopped. A heavy silence descended on the cabin, more terrifying than the noise.
