Chapter 145 - The Subterranean Maw
The suppressed 5.56 round tore through Vance’s left shoulder, severing muscle and shattering bone. He bellowed in agony, his grip on Clara slipping as the kinetic impact spun him backward into the snow.
"Clara, drop!" I screamed.
For once in her miserable, self-obsessed life, my sister listened. She threw herself flat against the slush-covered flagstones just as the mercenary perimeter opened fire.
A storm of high-velocity lead chewed through the air where Clara had been standing a fraction of a second before. Stone splinters exploded from the patio pillars, glass balustrades shattered in cascading sheets of glittering diamond dust, and the cedar siding of Whispering Pines was ripped into kindling.
I rolled behind the massive granite outdoor fireplace, rounds chipping away at the stone inches from my helmet. Returning fire in controlled, surgical three-round bursts, I dropped the two contractors flanking the lead helicopter. They collapsed into the snow without a sound, their rifles clattering against the ice.
Then the lake exploded.
Fifty yards off the private dock, the pristine blue surface of Lake Tahoe bulged upward into a massive, foaming dome of white water. With a terrifying groan of stressed metal and fracturing granite, the black conning tower of *Leviathan-01* breached the surface.
It was colossal. The sheer scale of the machine defied human comprehension. It wasn't merely a submarine; it was an aquatic dreadnought, black and angular, coated in anechoic stealth tiles that absorbed the blinding searchlights of the helicopters. Water fell from its massive flanks in roaring tsunamis, swamp-rolling the docks and instantly pulverizing my custom mahogany speedboats into floating splinters.
The foundation of Whispering Pines groaned in sympathy.
The left wing of the villa—the master suite where Arthur had arrogantly hung his portrait above the mantle—sheared away from the main structure with a sound like a lightning strike. The entire wing slipped down the crumbling granite embankment, plunging into the boiling, churned waters of the lake with a catastrophic crash.
"My house!" Arthur shrieked, clawing at the sliding snow as the ground tilted beneath him. "My estate! It's falling into the water! Marcus, do something!"
"Shut up, Arthur!" I yelled over the din of crumbling stone and roaring turbines.
Vance was on his feet again, clutching his shattered shoulder, blood pouring down his tactical vest. He dragged Clara up by her hair, pressing the barrel of his sidearm against her temple as he backed toward the open ramp of the primary transport helicopter.
"Bring the terminal!" Vance roared to his surviving men. "We don't need the father! The girl's retinal imprint is already fifty percent matched to the reserve protocol! Force the override on board!"
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"Marcus!" Clara screamed, her eyes wide with unadulterated terror as she looked at me through the hail of gunfire. "Help me! I'm sorry! I'll sign the house back! I'll give you everything! Marcus, please don't let them take me!"
***
