Sweet Revenge Of The Stolen Heiress

The air inside the main house was thick with panic.

"We have to get rid of her," Enoch paced the living room, his injured hands held awkwardly against his chest. "She's cursed. She's bringing trouble down on us."

The phone on the wall rang. Enoch jumped. He picked it up.

"Flint?" Enoch said. "What is it?"

"Dad, there's a convoy coming up the mountain," his son Flint's voice crackled over the line. "They just blew past the lower gate. They're heavily armed. I—"

The line went dead with a sharp burst of static.

Enoch dropped the phone. The blood drained from his face. "Get the girl!" he yelled to Tabitha and Kayleigh.

They rushed out the back door. Kayleigh and Tabitha grabbed Clare by the arms. They dragged her toward the center of the muddy compound. Clare didn't fight back. She let her body go limp.

Enoch followed them, holding the shotgun. He stood behind Clare, using her small frame to shield himself as the distant sound of engines grew louder.

"Nobody move until I say so," Enoch ordered, his voice cracking.

Before he could do anything further, a massive explosion of sound shattered the silence.

The heavy iron gates of the compound were violently ripped off their hinges. A massive, matte-black Hummer smashed through the metal, sending sparks flying into the air.

Right behind it, three black, armored SUVs roared into the yard. They skidded in the mud, forming a tight semi-circle around the Pruitt family.

The high beams of the vehicles snapped on, blinding Enoch. He squinted, raising his arm to shield his eyes.

The doors of the SUVs opened simultaneously.

A dozen men in full tactical gear poured out. They wore black bulletproof vests. They moved with terrifying, silent precision. In less than two seconds, twelve assault rifles with suppressors were aimed directly at Enoch, Tabitha, and Kayleigh.

A red laser dot appeared directly on Enoch's chest. "Drop the weapon, now," the security chief's voice boomed over a megaphone.

Enoch froze. The shotgun felt like a toy in his hands. A cold drop of sweat rolled down his spine. His knees buckled, and he dropped the shotgun. It splashed into a puddle. Two guards immediately rushed forward, securing Enoch and stepping Clare safely away from him.

Only after the perimeter was completely secured did the back door of the command Suburban open.

Silas Barrett stepped out into the mud. He wore a custom-tailored black trench coat. His jaw was locked so tight the muscles twitched. His eyes swept over the scene, cold and sharp as broken glass.

Genevieve stepped out right behind him. Her expensive high heels sank deep into the muck, but she didn't even notice. Her eyes darted frantically around the yard.

Then, she saw her.

Genevieve saw the small, bruised girl standing in the mud. The relief that flooded her face was immediately chased by grief at the sight of Clare's thin arms, her hollow cheeks, the fresh cut above her brow.

Genevieve let out a sound that was half-scream, half-sob. It tore from her throat, raw and agonizing.

She sprinted forward. The head of security reached out to stop her, but she moved past him.

"Keep them secured," Silas said. His voice was low, but it carried over the idling engines.

Tabitha and Kayleigh raised their hands in the air, their faces masks of pure terror.

Clare slowly lifted her head. She looked at the beautiful woman running toward her.

Genevieve dropped to her knees in the mud. She threw her arms around Clare, pulling the small girl tightly against her chest.

Clare buried her face in Genevieve's neck. She smelled the faint scent of jasmine and expensive vanilla. It was a scent buried deep in her oldest memories.

"My baby," Genevieve sobbed uncontrollably. Her hands shook as she stroked Clare's matted hair. "I've got you. Mommy's got you."

Silas walked over. His heavy boots splashed in the mud. He looked down at Clare. He saw the fresh blood on her forehead. He saw the dark bruises on her arms.

His expression went very still. The kind of still that comes just before a storm.

He took off his black trench coat and wrapped it gently around Clare's shivering shoulders. He lifted her easily into his arms, holding her tight against his chest.

Silas turned his head slowly to look at Enoch. The weight in his gaze was more dangerous than any weapon.

The tactical team moved the Pruitt family together under guard, away from Clare.

Silas ordered his security chief quietly. "Hold them. The authorities will be here within the hour. I want every charge documented — every mark on this child on record."

Clare rested her head on Silas's broad shoulder. She closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. For the first time since she was reborn, she smiled.