PART 17
A primal rage exploded inside me,
wiping out every ounce of fear.
He had killed my father.
He was threatening my child.
I didn't care about the law,
I didn't care about the ledger.
I wanted him dead.
I threw the heavy iron wrench across the room,
intentionally hitting a shelf filled with glass jars of nails.
The crash was deafening,
shattering glass and metal screaming across the concrete floor.
Judge Vance flinched,
instinctively ducking and drawing a silenced pistol from his coat.
In that split second of distraction,
I lunged out from the shadows,
not toward him,
but toward the main power breaker on the wall.
I grabbed the heavy metal lever and slammed it up,
then down,
jamming it with a piece of wood from the bench.
A shower of sparks exploded from the box,
blindingly bright,
before the entire house went dead.
The backup battery system for his security cameras fried with a loud pop.
"Damn it!"
Vance yelled,
firing two muffled shots into the darkness.
The bullets whined past my ear,
chipping the stone wall behind me.
I dropped to my knees,
crawling fast across the familiar layout of my dad’s workshop.
I knew every inch of this room,
I had played here as a child.
Beneath the stairs,
there was an old coal chute,
unused for decades,
leading directly to the backyard bushes.
I slid into the dusty metal tunnel,
pushing the rusted latch open with my feet.
I squeezed through,
the rough metal scraping my back and shoulders,
taring my jacket.
I tumbled out into the wet dirt outside,
the rain washing the coal dust from my face.
I didn't look back.
I ran through the woods,
pounding through the mud,
May you like
screaming inside for Noah.
I had to get to the grocery store before his son did.
