Chapter 3: The Mountain Estate
The drive up the ridge was swallowed by a sudden, violent thunderstorm. Rain lashed against the windshield of Silas’s old truck. The logging estate had been abandoned for years, bought out by shell companies. Now, it served as a prison for the only family Silas had left.
He killed the headlights a mile down the dirt road. Silas and his three companions—Big John, a mechanic named Rusty, and a quiet guy they called 'Doc'—hiked the rest of the way through the freezing mud.
Through the trees, the estate loomed like a dark fortress. Two armed men stood on the porch, smoking cigarettes to escape the rain. Silas signaled his men. They moved like ghosts, a skill Silas hadn't used since his military days decades ago, but a father's rage sharpens the memory.
In a swift, brutal motion, John and Rusty took down the guards before they could shout. Silas kicked the side door open. The house was dark, smelling of damp wood and cheap whiskey. They cleared the first floor in silence, knocking out two more of Marcus’s thugs.
Then, they found it. A heavy iron door at the end of the hallway, padlocked from the outside. Silas felt a surge of adrenaline. He raised the butt of his shotgun to smash the lock.
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Suddenly, the hallway flooded with blinding floodlights.
"Drop the guns!" a voice echoed from the staircase. Five men, heavily armed, had them surrounded. Marcus had managed to send a warning text from the diner. It was an ambush.
