Chapter 8 - The Stand at Miller’s Ridge“Drop the weapon, Major!” Clara screamed, her voice shrill and unhinged.
Her hair was plastered to her forehead by the rain, her eyes wide with desperate panic. She didn't look like a high-society woman from Atlanta; she looked like a cornered animal.
Vance froze, his back turned to her. He slowly raised his hands away from his side, keeping his weapon pointed safely at the floor.
“Clara,” Vance said calmly, without turning around. “The property is surrounded by federal monitors. Reinforcements are already on their way.”
“Lie!” she shrieked, stepping into the study, the heavy barrels of the shotgun trembling in her hands. “I’ve been monitoring the police band! No one knows you’re here except us!”
She looked at her brother tied to the bookshelf, then at Evan sitting on the floor, and finally her eyes landed on me.
“You,” Clara hissed, her face contorting with hatred. “You were supposed to be at the bottom of the ravine! Why won't you just die?”
“Mom... stop,” Evan whispered, standing up slowly from the floor, his voice hollow. “It’s over. Dad knew. He knew about everything.”
“Shut up, Evan!” Clara yelled, her eyes darting frantically around the room. “He lied to you! They’re all lying! We get the ledger, we take the drive, and we leave the country tonight!”
“There is no money, Mom!” Evan shouted, taking a step toward her, tears finally spilling down his young face. “Dad left it all to a charity! We spent three years trying to murder Sarah for nothing! Nothing!”
Clara blinked, stunned by his words, her hands trembling harder on the wooden stock of the shotgun. “No... no, that’s impossible. Mark said—”
“Mark lied to you, Clara,” I said, taking a cautious step forward, ignoring the throbbing pain in my ankle. “Just like you lied to your own son. You used a fourteen-year-old boy to poison his own father because you couldn't pay off your debts.”
“Shut up!” Clara roared, swinging the barrel of the shotgun directly toward my chest.
In that fraction of a second, Evan didn't hesitate.
He didn't run, and he didn't hide. He threw his body directly between his mother’s shotgun and me.
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BOOM!
The thunderous roar of the shotgun blast shattered the room.
