Chapter 9 - The Reckoning
“No!” Rostov roared, losing his composure and aiming his gun.
Before he could pull the trigger, Sarah lunged from the floor, tackling Rostov’s legs with all her remaining strength. The gun went off, the bullet splintering the concrete near my boots.
I pulled the heavy framing hammer from my belt and charged.
The nearest guard raised his handgun, but I hit him like a freight train, swinging the steel hammer with terrifying force into his wrist. The gun flew from his grip as he screamed in pain. I drove my shoulder into his chest, slamming him against the steel girder, dropping him instantly.
The second guard swung his weapon toward me, but Sarah kicked his knee from behind, causing his shot to wild-fire into the ceiling rafters. I spun around and brought the flat end of the hammer across his jaw, knocking him unconscious onto the floor.
Rostov kicked Sarah off him, scrambling back toward his pistol that had fallen onto the wet concrete.
I stepped on his hand just as his fingers touched the steel barrel.
CRACK.
Rostov screamed in agony as I crushed his fingers beneath my heavy boot, kicking the gun far across the room. I grabbed him by the lapels of his expensive coat, hoisting him up against the furnace tank.
“My wife spent five years trying to escape you,” I growled, bringing my face inches from his pale, trembling countenance. “My five-year-old daughter spent four days on a cold floor keeping her baby brother alive because of you.”
“Mark… please…” Rostov wheezed, his arrogance completely shattered.
Suddenly, deafening flashbang grenades exploded near the foundry entrance.
BOOM! BOOM!
Blinding white light and smoke filled the air as dozens of heavily armed FBI tactical officers and police units flooded the foundry, laser sights painting the walls red.
“FBI! Nobody move! Drop your weapons!”
Detective Vance ran through the smoke, his gun drawn, stopping beside us. He saw Rostov pinned against the wall, the two guards unconscious, and Sarah holding onto my arm.
Vance looked at me, then looked at the hammer in my hand, shaking his head in absolute disbelief.
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“I told you to wait for backup, Vance,” the detective said, a mixture of shock and respect in his voice.
“I couldn't wait,” I said quietly, releasing Rostov as federal agents tackled the crime lord to the ground and slapped heavy steel cuffs onto his wrists.
