Chapter 4 - The Lion at the Gate
Nathan didn't hesitate. He gently laid Sarah back down beneath the rug, leaned close, and whispered, “Stay quiet. I’m going to end this.”
He stepped out of the pantry, pulling the wooden door shut behind him.
The front door kicked open with a loud bang, and Marcus Kane stumbled into the cabin. He was a tall, heavily built man in his late thirties, dressed in a snow-covered hunting coat. His face was red and bloated from alcohol, his eyes wild and bloodshot. In his right hand, he held a black 9mm handgun.
When Marcus lifted his flashlight and saw Nathan standing in the middle of the ruined kitchen, he froze.
“Who the hell are you?” Marcus growled, raising the weapon.
Nathan took a slow, deliberate step forward. In the dark, illuminated only by the swinging beam of Marcus’s light, Nathan looked formidable—six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, his eyes burning with a lethal, icy fury that shocked Marcus.
“I’m the man who told my sister seven years ago that you were a pathetic, parasitic coward,” Nathan said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “It turns out I was entirely right.”
Marcus’s eyes widened in realization. “Pierce. The big shot doctor.” A sick, arrogant sneer twisted Marcus’s face. “You’re too late, doc. Sarah’s dead, and those little brat kids of hers are frozen at the bottom of a ravine by now.”
“My niece carried her brothers three miles through a blizzard to my doorstep,” Nathan corrected him, his tone dropping an octave. “They are warm. They are safe. And you are never going to touch them again.”
Marcus’s face contorted in rage. “You think you can take them from me?! That trust fund is worth twelve million dollars! Sarah signed it over to me!”
“She signed it under duress,” Nathan said, taking another step forward. “And now you’re facing attempted murder of a mother and three infants.”
“I’m facing nothing!” Marcus screamed, raising the gun directly at Nathan’s chest. “I’ll kill you, take the kids back, and tell the cops you attacked me!”
Marcus squeezed the trigger.
CLICK.
The icy cold had jammed the firing pin of the neglected handgun.
Before Marcus could rack the slide, Nathan exploded forward.
Years of pent-up guilt and rage powered Nathan’s movement. He slammed into Marcus like a freight train, driving him backward through the kitchen island. The weapon flew from Marcus’s hand, crashing across the floor into the shadows.
Marcus bellowed in pain, swinging a heavy fist that caught Nathan across the jaw. Nathan tasted blood, but he barely felt it. He tackled Marcus onto the frozen floorboards, landing two brutal, precise punches to Marcus’s ribs, shattering the abuser’s cartilage.
“That’s for Lily!” Nathan roared, driving an elbow into Marcus’s jaw.
Marcus spat blood, grabbing a sharp piece of broken bottle from the floor and slashing wildy at Nathan’s throat. Nathan dodged, grabbing Marcus’s wrist and twisting it upward until a sickening SNAP echoed through the room.
Marcus shrieked in agony, dropping the glass.
Nathan pinned Marcus face-down against the icy floor, pulling heavy zip-ties from his medical kit and binding Marcus’s wrists tightly behind his back.
Outside, the roaring sound of heavy engine treads cut through the storm. Flashing red and blue lights illuminated the frosted cabin windows.
Captain Miller and four heavily armed State Troopers stormed into the cabin, rifles raised.
“Police! Nobody move!” Miller shouted.
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He stopped, taking in the scene: Marcus Kane broken, groaning, and bound on the floor, and Dr. Nathan Pierce standing tall over him, wiping blood from his own lip.
“He’s all yours, Captain,” Nathan panted, pulling his trauma bag back over his shoulder. “My sister is in the pantry. She has a severe traumatic brain injury and internal bleeding. We need her in my snowcat immediately!”
