Chapter 14 - The Defense of the Farmhouse
At 11:30 PM, two dark sedans pulled onto the long gravel driveway, their headlights turned off.
Four men in heavy leather jackets stepped out into the crisp autumn air, holding silenced handguns as they crept toward the front porch.
The front door sat wide open, warm light spilling across the wooden steps.
The lead gunman stepped onto the porch, raising his weapon as he crossed the threshold into the living room.
BANG.
A high-caliber gunshot shattered the quiet night. The lead gunman crumpled to the floor, shot cleanly through the shoulder from the dark landing at the top of the stairs.
Marcus stepped out of the shadows of the dining room, his own weapon drawn, firing two rapid shots that drove the remaining three men back onto the porch in total confusion.
"Drop your weapons!" Marcus roared, his deep voice carrying the terrifying authority of the crime boss he had once been. "Or every federal marshal in New England will be on this driveway in three minutes!"
From the top of the stairs, Evelyn stood in the shadows, her handgun held in a firm two-handed grip, trained squarely on the chest of the second gunman.
"Get off my land," Evelyn commanded, her voice dropping into an iron register that cut through the night air like a blade.
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The three surviving men looked from Marcus to the woman on the stairs, realizing in one terrifying moment that they had walked into a fortress guarded not by a helpless mother, but by two people who had nothing left to lose.
They dropped their weapons into the snow, raised their hands, and backed down the porch steps as the distant sirens of local police cars began to echo through the mountain valley.
