Chapter 7 - The Final Stand
“Don’t move!”
Three armed operatives in full tactical gear swarmed through the smoke, their assault rifles leveled directly at Lorenzo and Nina.
Lorenzo didn't flinch. He smoothly raised his Sig Sauer and fired twice with terrifying precision, catching the lead operative in the shoulder and dropping the second with a shot to his Kevlar-vested chest.
The third operative lunged forward, swinging the butt of his rifle toward Lorenzo’s head.
Before the blow could land, a black blur shot across the room.
Ghost slammed into the third operative’s midsection, sending the heavy man crashing backward through the remaining glass display case. The man screamed as the Rottweiler’s jaws locked onto his tactical vest, dragging him violently across the floor until he stopped moving.
“We have to move, now!” Lorenzo grabbed Nina by the hand, hauling her to her feet.
“Where? They’ve blocked the elevators!”
“The roof,” Lorenzo said, his eyes hard and resolute. “My private chopper is idling on the pad. Marcus has already cleared the flight path.”
They sprinted out of the ruined study, dodging debris and smoke as they raced up the winding spiral staircase toward the penthouse roof access. Ghost stayed glued to their heels, his heavy paws pounding against the metal steps like a drumbeat of war.
As they burst through the heavy steel roof door, the cold Manhattan rain hit them like a wall of ice. The wind whipped through the towering skyscrapers, howling around the edges of the helipad where a sleek, twin-engine AgustaWestland helicopter sat waiting with its rotors spinning a blinding blur overhead.
A figure in a tactical flight suit stood by the open cabin door, waving frantically for them to board.
“Get in!” Lorenzo shouted over the deafening roar of the jet turbine, shoving Nina toward the cabin steps.
Nina scrambled inside, pulling Ghost in right behind her. The massive dog squeezed his heavy frame into the backseat, pressing his wet body against her legs as if he would never let her go again.
Lorenzo climbed in last, slamming the heavy cabin door shut and locking the heavy deadbolt from the inside.
“Take off, Marcus!” Lorenzo roared into his pilot headset.
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The helicopter lifted vertically off the helipad with a sudden, stomach-churning jolt, banking sharply away from the burning skyline as the distant sirens of police cruisers finally began echoing up through the canyons of the city.
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