Chapter 10 - THE COUNTER-TRAP
Arthur let out an ear-splitting scream of agony, his grip on my neck loosening instantly as blood spurted from his leg, soaking through his trousers.
I drew back my heavy boot and kicked him squarely in the chest, shoving his weight off me. I scrambled backward across the floor, pressing my back against the fireplace, coughing violently as cold air rushed back into my starved lungs.
Arthur collapsed onto his side, clutching his spurting leg, groaning in pain, his eyes wide with shock as blood pooled around him on the light oak floorboards.
Before he could pull himself up, the entire front facade of the lodge blew inward.
BOOM! BOOM!
Two flashbang grenades detonated in the entryway, filling the room with a blinding white light and a deafening, disorienting roar. Shockwaves rattled the timber rafters.
"POLICE! POLICE! DON'T MOVE!"
"ON THE GROUND! HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!"
Detective Vance, flanked by a tactical unit of eight state troopers armed with assault rifles, burst through the shattered door. Laser sights painted red dots across Arthur's chest and head.
Within three seconds, two troopers slammed Arthur face down into his own blood, wrenching his arms behind his back and snapping heavy steel cuffs over his wrists.
"Clear!" a trooper yelled. "Primary suspect in custody!"
I pulled myself up against the stone mantle, gasping for air, and rushed straight over to Clara. I used my blood-stained multi-tool to slice through her plastic wrist restraints just as two paramedics rushed in with medical kits.
"Elena..." Clara wheezed, clutching her bruised wrist, her eyes filled with tears of relief. "You... you came..."
"I told you I’d protect you," I whispered, my voice hoarse and raspy.
Across the room, three troopers were hauling Arthur to his feet. He was limping heavily, blood dripping from his thigh onto the floor, but his face was still contorted in arrogant, sociopathic defiance.
"You think this changes anything, Elena?!" he spat, glaring at me through the bloody hair hanging in his eyes as they dragged him toward the door. "My legal team will shred this entire night to pieces! You broke into my private lodge! You assaulted me with a weapon! Every shred of evidence in this room is illegal! I’ll be out on bail by noon!"
I wiped the blood from my cheek, stood up straight, and walked slowly toward him, stopping inches from his face as the troopers held him in place.
The rain poured through the shattered front door, soaking us both.
"You're a brilliant criminal, Arthur," I said, my voice deadpan, chillingly quiet. "But you’re a terrible engineer. You forgot about basic physical trace evidence."
He blinked, his arrogance wavering for a fraction of a second.
"Your blood isn't just on this floor," I whispered, tapping my blood-smeared coat. "Your DNA is on my jacket, on my blade, and under my fingernails from when you tried to strangle me. That isn't fruit of the poisonous tree, Arthur. That is fresh, primary physical evidence from an active attempted murder scene. And Vance is sending it to the state lab right now."
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Arthur’s face drained of every drop of color. His jaw worked silently, but no sound came out.
The troopers shoved him out into the roaring storm, throwing him into the back of a armored transport vehicle, and slammed the heavy steel doors shut.
