BULLETPROOF HEART

THE LAST STAND

BULLETPROOF HEART - CHAPTER 7: THE LAST STAND

The doors didn't burst open. They were kicked open.

Three men. Black tac vests. No masks. Dele's men never wore masks.

Marcus pulled Amara to the floor behind the pew, his body over hers. Chief Opobo's men were already firing — short, controlled bursts. Not spray.

"Stay down!" Marcus shouted to her.

Chief Opobo racked his shotgun from behind the altar like he'd done this before. "You come to a house of God with guns? God is watching!"

The lead mercenary shouted, "Where's the drive?"

Amara's hands were shaking again, but different this time. Not fear. Fury. She grabbed the hard drive from the bag and held it up.

"You want it? Come and take it!"

Marcus stared at her. "Amara, what are you doing?"

"Buying us time," she whispered. "Papa's escape tunnel. Under the baptism pool. We used it in 2020."

Chief nodded once. He'd already started moving the wooden cover.

One of Dele's men lunged. Marcus fired. The man dropped his rifle, clutching his leg. Not dead. Marcus never shot to kill unless he had to.

"Move! Move! Move!" Chief yelled.

Amara, Marcus, and Chief slipped through the narrow baptism pool tunnel — cold water to their waists, rats, darkness. Behind them, more shouting, more gunfire, then silence as Chief's men held the church.

They came out 200 meters away, near the river, where an old Toyota Hilux waited. Keys in it.

Chief tossed Marcus the keys. "You drive. I've seen my daughter drive."

"Papa!" Amara protested, soaking wet, muddy, holding the drive like a baby.

Chief got in the back, breathing hard. "Go to the Air Force base. Old Gate 2. I called them. They will let you through."

Marcus floored it. Mud flying, river on one side, bush on the other.

In the rearview mirror, Amara was looking at him. Not at the road. At him.

"Marcus," she said softly.

"Not now," he said, eyes on the muddy track.

"Marcus."

He glanced. She was leaning forward between the seats, close.

"You said you failed Rule 3."

Chief pretended to look out the window very hard.

Marcus swallowed. "Amara..."

She reached over and touched his cheek, her hand cold from river water.

"Good," she whispered. "Because I failed it first."

For two seconds, while driving through a swamp with mercenaries behind them and Interpol ahead, Marcus let himself smile. A real, boyish smile she hadn't seen before.

"When this is over," he said.

"When this is over what?" she asked.

"I'm going to kiss you properly. Not on a rooftop while people shoot at us."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Chief coughed loudly from the back. "If you two are done flirting, my blood pressure — we have company."

Behind them, headlights. Faster. Two SUVs gaining.

Marcus pressed harder on the gas. The old Hilux rattled.

"Hold on!" he shouted.

The Air Force base lights appeared ahead. Gate 2. Two soldiers with rifles raised.

Marcus flashed the headlights twice — the signal Chief said to use.

The gates opened.

They shot through just as the first SUV behind them braked hard, then turned and disappeared into the bush.

They were safe. For now.

Inside the base, a woman in a crisp uniform walked up. French accent. Interpol badge.

"Chief Opobo? We got your call. You have the drive?"

Amara stepped out, barefoot, in Marcus's ruined t-shirt, hair plastered to her face, and held out the hard drive.

"Everything you need to put Dele Cole in prison is on this. Every payment. Every gun. Every lie."

The woman took it. "You did a brave thing."

Amara looked at Marcus, who was leaning against the Hilux, bleeding again, exhausted, but watching her like she was the only solid thing in the world.

"I didn't do it alone," she said.

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*END OF CHAPTER 7* 🔥