Chapter 10 - Siege of Birch and Pine
The words hung in the air like a detonation.
Ronan stood motionless, his broad shoulders squared, the gun in his hand hanging at his side. "My... what?"
"Poppy," Eleanor’s voice croaked from the shadows of the hallway.
It was the first time in four years the matriarch had spoken aloud. The word was rough, like rusty iron grating over stone, but it tore through the room with absolute authority. Eleanor walked into the great room, her eyes blazing with matriarchal fire.
"Julian had a daughter, Ronan," Eleanor rasped, pointing a trembling, ringed finger at Sadie. "Julian’s flesh. Julian’s eyes. Silas took the child."
Ronan turned his head slowly, looking at Sadie as if seeing her for the first time. The puzzle pieces that had haunted him for days finally locked into place: Sadie’s desperate rush back to Birch Street, her refusal to stay the night, the unbreakable courage she showed against Silas in the solarium.
She wasn't a maid. She wasn't just a grieving widow. She was a mother protecting the last piece of Julian Cain left on earth.
"Her eyes," Ronan murmured, a strange, terrifying shift coming over his features. "You said she has Cain gray eyes."
"Just like Julian’s," Sadie cried, grabbing Ronan’s lapels with desperate, raw strength. "They took her, Ronan! Silas has her at Pier 19! The same place he murdered your brother! He’s going to kill her!"
A heavy thud rattled the rear French doors, followed by the deafening spray of automatic fire chewing through the reinforced wood. Glass showered across the hardwood floor. Silas’s vanguard had breached the patio.
"Victor! Vance!" Ronan roared, his voice erupting with the feral intensity of an apex predator defending its pack. "Clear the patio! Take no prisoners!"
Ronan grabbed Sadie by the shoulder, shoving her down behind the granite island as a hail of bullets tore through the upper kitchen cabinets. Ceramic plates and shattered crystal rained down around them.
"Listen to me," Ronan snarled, kneeling beside her, his dark eyes burning with an unholy fire. "No one touches Julian’s blood. No one."
He fired three rapid, pinpoint shots through the splintered doorframe. A wet grunt and a heavy collapse outside signaled a hit. Victor flanked the opposite corner, laying down suppressing fire that drove the attackers back into the freezing mist.
"There’s an armored Suburban in the underground boat garage," Ronan commanded, his voice steady, lethal, and focused. "The tunnel leads past the security gate to the north highway. We break out now."
"What about Eleanor?" Sadie gasped, reloading her pistol with steady hands.
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"Mother rides with Victor," Ronan said. He looked at Eleanor, who gave a single, solemn nod. "We leave Silas’s dogs bleeding in the snow, and then you and I go to the docks."
Ronan reached out, his hand clasping Sadie’s shoulder with bruising pressure. "Julian died alone at that harbor, Sadie. His daughter won't."
