Chapter 6 - THE WOLVES AT THE DOOR
I shook Theo gently. He woke instantly, no grogginess, just immediate, hyper-vigilant terror. I pressed a finger to my lips. He nodded, slipping out from under the blanket like a shadow.
Julian was at the window, peering through a crack in the blinds. "Three cars," he murmured. "Black SUVs. Russo sent his hunters. They followed the blood trail from the subway grate."
"Can we fight them?" I whispered.
"I have one magazine. There are at least twelve of them down there." Julian turned to me, his face a mask of cold calculation. "Is there roof access?"
"Fire escape outside the kitchen window. It goes up to the roof, and from there, you can cross over to the adjacent building. The gap is narrow."
"Good." He moved toward the kitchen, but heavy, booted footsteps were already pounding up the central staircase of the apartment building. They weren't bothering to be quiet anymore. They knew we were here.
"Delia, take Theo. Go up the fire escape," Julian ordered, taking a position behind my overturned kitchen table, aiming his gun at the front door.
"I'm not leaving you to die in my living room," I hissed, grabbing a heavy cast-iron skillet from the stove. It was a pathetic weapon against automatic rifles, but I wasn't going to just run.
"You are not a soldier, Delia. You are a civilian. Take my son and go!"
Before I could argue, the front door exploded inward, kicked off its hinges. The hallway light spilled into the dark apartment, silhouetting three heavily armed men.
Julian fired. Two sharp, deafening cracks. The first man dropped, a bullet in his knee. The second stumbled back. The third opened fire, ripping my cheap plaster walls to shreds.
"Go!" Julian roared, laying down suppressing fire.
I grabbed Theo, hauled open the kitchen window, and shoved him out onto the rusted metal of the fire escape. The rain was still coming down in sheets, slicking the metal rungs.
"Climb!" I yelled over the din of gunfire.
Theo scrambled up the metal stairs with terrifying speed. I followed, slipping, scraping my knees, my heart hammering against my ribs. Below us, inside the apartment, the gunfire reached a fever pitch, followed by a sickening crash.
We reached the roof. The wind howled, whipping rain into our eyes. I looked back down the fire escape. Julian wasn't there.
"Papa!" Theo screamed, trying to run back toward the ledge.
I grabbed him, dragging him back. "No, Theo! We have to jump to the next roof!"
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But before we could move, the heavy metal window frame of my apartment squealed, and Julian hauled himself out onto the fire escape. He was breathing heavily, his face smeared with soot and blood, but he was moving.
"Keep going!" he yelled, climbing toward us as bullets began to spark against the iron railings behind him.
