Chapter 9 - The Skyfall Descent
High above the rugged, snow-capped peaks of the Olympic Mountain range, a twin-engine military transport aircraft cut through the turbulent midnight storm. Inside the stripped-down cargo bay, the red jump lights bathed Dominic Vance in a bloody, dramatic glow as he strapped on a high-altitude HALO parachute harness.
Beside him, Marcus sat monitoring an encrypted tactical radio frequency intercepted from a rogue private military contractor. The crackle of static broke over the speaker, followed by the harsh, clipped voice of a mercenary commander operating on the ground in Washington.
”Strike team is positioned at the perimeter of the Vance coastal estate; we have bypassed the outer motion sensors and are preparing to breach the conservatory glass in two minutes.” The radio confirmed the horrifying reality that Julian Laurent’s secondary contingency had been activated before his federal arrest.
Julian had paid an elite twelve-man mercenary unit five million dollars in advance to kidnap Clara from the Port Angeles estate and hold her hostage in an offshore freighter until the Swiss funds were released. With the storm knocking out local power grids and communication lines across the peninsula, Arthur Vance was defending the estate alone.
“Boss, the cloud ceiling is below eight hundred feet, and the coastal wind shear is gusting at fifty knots!” Marcus shouted over the roar of the depressurizing cargo bay. “A HALO jump into those timber bluffs in this storm gives you less than a twenty percent survival rate!”
Dominic snapped his high-altitude oxygen mask over his face, his dark eyes burning with an unshakeable, terrifying resolve. “My wife and my child are in that house, Marcus; I don't care about the survival rate.”
He grabbed his tactical assault pack, checking his twin sidearms and combat blades with practiced, fluid precision. The cargo ramp groaned as the hydraulic cylinders lowered the massive steel platform into the freezing, howling abyss of the Pacific tempest.
The jump master gave the signal: three rapid taps on Dominic’s shoulder as the green jump light illuminated the bay. Dominic did not hesitate for a microsecond; he sprinted off the edge of the ramp, diving headfirst into the pitch-black void of the freezing storm.
He plummeted through twenty thousand feet of freezing rain and dense cloud cover at over one hundred and twenty miles per hour. The violent wind screamed against his flight suit, tossing him like a ragdoll as the jagged black outlines of the coastal mountains rushed up to meet him.
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At nine hundred feet, Dominic pulled the rip cord, the heavy rectangular canopy deploying with a bone-jarring crack that nearly dislocated his shoulders. He steered through the dense cedar treetops, severing the suspension lines with his combat knife as he crashed through the branches, landing with a heavy roll on the muddy lawn fifty yards from the estate’s conservatory.
The sound of shattering glass and heavy gunfire erupted from the front terrace of the manor. Dominic drew both weapons, rising from the mud like an avenging shadow, and charged into the darkness to protect the only family he had left.
