Chapter 12
Vincent set Evelyn down gently on a soft sofa, keeping his broad frame between her and the door. He knelt down, opening his arms to Clara. The four-year-old ran to him, burying her face in his neck.
"I'm here, little bird," Vincent murmured, kissing her head. "Everything is going to be okay."
Evelyn stared at her daughter, tears streaming down her pale, thin cheeks. She reached out a trembling hand, the custom diamond and platinum bracelet catching the light. "Clara... my sweet, beautiful girl."
Clara peeked over her father's shoulder, looking at the frail, weeping woman in the faded cotton dress. She didn't remember her mother, but the undeniable, instinctual bond of blood seemed to bridge the gap of four stolen years. Clara slowly reached out and touched Evelyn's hand.
"You're crying," Clara said softly.
"They are happy tears, baby," Evelyn sobbed, pulling the little girl into a desperate, gentle hug.
The heavy steel door slammed shut behind Vincent, locking them inside the secure playroom. He stood up, turning his back on the touching reunion. His family was safe in the vault, but the war was raging outside.
He walked over to a hidden panel in the wall and retrieved a heavily customized, suppressed assault rifle and a tactical Kevlar vest. He strapped the armor over his crisp white shirt, the sharp tattoos on his neck flexing.
"I will be right back," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying rumble.
"Vincent, be careful," Evelyn pleaded, holding Clara tightly.
May you like
"They brought a war to my home," Vincent stated, his cold, intimidating eyes narrowing into lethal slits. "I am going to show them why they should have stayed in New York."
Vincent exited the panic room, the heavy deadbolts clicking into place behind him. He stepped out into the hallway, racking the slide of his weapon. The time for hiding was over. The king was going to defend his castle.
