Daniel clawed at my torn sleeve. “Sarah! What the hell is happening? How do you know how to do this?!”
I looked at my husband. I needed him functional, not frozen. “Daniel, listen to me. I need you to gather your parents and Amanda. Get them inside the reinforced wine cellar and lock the steel door. Do not come out until I give the all-clear. Do you understand?”
“I am not leaving you out here!” he yelled, panic edging into his voice.
“I am not a damsel, Daniel. I am the cavalry,” I snapped, my eyes blazing. “Go!”
I broke from cover, utilizing the scattered chairs and shattered tables as concealment. I moved with a predator’s grace, flanking wide to the left. The hostile closest to the bar never saw me coming. Two suppressed shots to center mass, and he went down hard.
That left two on the terrace. But the battlefield dynamic was about to shift drastically.
Through the smoke and the dim lighting, I saw Catherine and Amanda. They hadn’t made it to the doors. They were huddled behind a decorative marble fountain in the center of the terrace, completely exposed from the side. Catherine was weeping hysterically, her makeup running in dark tracks. Amanda was clinging to her mother, paralyzed by terror.
One of the remaining gunmen spotted them. Realizing his primary target was out of reach, he pivoted, raising his weapon toward the two defenseless women, intent on securing hostages or simply causing collateral damage.
In that split second, I had a choice. These were the women who had mocked me, belittled my family, and tried to make me feel worthless. I could have stayed in cover. I could have justified it tactically.
