THE WEIGHT OF EMPIRE

"Get away from the window!" Vincent barked, grabbing Emily by the arm and pulling her hard to the floor just as the glass shattered inward.

A deafening roar filled the tiny apartment as bullets tore through the drywall, shredding the thrift-store curtains and obliterating the cheap lamps.

Emily scrambled on her hands and knees through the shower of glass and plaster, ignoring the sharp cuts on her palms. She reached the sofa and threw herself over her mother's frail body. Helen was trembling violently, clutching her chest as her breathing grew agonizingly shallow.

"Mom, look at me," Emily shouted over the gunfire. "Keep your eyes on me!"

Vincent was crouched behind the overturned oak dining table, his weapon barking in sharp, measured bursts toward the street. He wasn't spraying wildly; he was firing with cold, terrifying precision. A scream echoed from the pavement below, followed by the screeching of tires.

"They're pulling back to the stairwell!" Vincent yelled, dropping his empty magazine and slamming a fresh one into the grip. "We have two minutes before they breach that door."

"We're on the third floor!" Emily cried in a panic. "There's no fire escape. We’re trapped!"

Vincent crawled toward them, his sweater smeared with white plaster dust. He looked at Helen’s pale, sweat-slicked face, then at Emily.

"I made a promise to Thomas," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a dead, unbreakable calm. "I am not going to break it today."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, heavy brass key. He shoved it into Emily's bleeding hand.

"Take this," he ordered. "There's a service grate in the bathroom that leads to the old ventilation shaft. It drops down into the basement utility room. This key unlocks the alley door."

"What about you?" Emily demanded, pulling her mother up by the waist.

"I'm going to walk out that front door and remind Silas who built this city," Vincent said, his amber eyes burning with a dark, terrifying fire.

"No!" Helen gasped, reaching a weak hand toward him. "Vincent, they'll kill you."

"Then the debt is paid, Nellie," he smiled sadly.

A heavy, rhythmic pounding echoed from the hallway. They were at the door.

Emily dragged her mother toward the bathroom, her heart hammering against her ribs. She kicked the grate open and helped Helen slide into the narrow, dark shaft. Emily turned back to look at Vincent one last time.

He was standing squarely in front of the apartment door, his gun raised, waiting for the wood to splinter.

"Go!" he roared.

Emily dropped into the darkness just as the front door exploded inward. The deafening sound of a shotgun blast shook the walls, followed instantly by a heavy, wet thud.

Emily clamped her hands over her ears, holding her mother tight in the dark, suffocating dust of the shaft. She waited for Vincent's footsteps. She waited for his commanding voice.