Chapter 7 - A Brother's Promise
From the shadows above the rafters, a low creak sounded as the old wooden structure shifted in the winter wind. Marcus flicked his gaze upward for a fraction of a second—a distraction I had been waiting for.
I closed the distance between us, grabbing his wrist and pushing the firearm toward the ceiling just as a shot fired, shattering an overhead beam. We hit the floor hard, rolling across the ice-covered wood.
Marcus was younger and fueled by frantic desperation, but anger and seven years of suppressed grief pushed me forward. I struck his arm against the corner of the crate, forcing him to drop the revolver. The gun skidded across the floor, falling through a gap in the floorboards into the frozen river beneath the mill.
Enraged, Marcus threw a heavy wooden plank across my face, throwing me backward onto the concrete. He reached into his belt for a hunting knife, his eyes wild.
"You ruined everything, Nathan!" he screamed, lunging at me.
Before he could strike, a loud cracking sound echoed through the mill, followed by the blinding beam of heavy spotlights illuminating the interior.
"Police! Drop the weapon!" Sheriff Miller's voice boomed over a loudspeaker outside.
Marcus hesitated, looking toward the perimeter where tactical officers were breaking through the windows. Driven by panic, he turned away from me and lunged toward Sarah with the knife raised.
"No!" I threw myself forward, tackling Marcus around his knees. We slammed into the support beam, bringing down a heavy section of timber that pinned Marcus's leg underneath it. He screamed in pain as the timber locked him to the floor.
I scrambled up, pulled out my pocket knife, and cut the ropes binding Sarah's wrists and ankles.
She collapsed into my arms, cold and barely conscious.
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"Nathan..." she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.
"I've got you, Sarah. I'm here," I said, wrapping my coat around her shoulders and lifting her up as tactical officers flooded the building.
