Part 27
I stepped back into the hallway, the flashing red emergency lights casting long, eerie shadows against the stone walls.
The security alarm continued to blare its deafening siren, adding to the absolute chaos of the night.
Through the strobe-like flashes, I saw a large shadow moving in the living room.
It was Julian. He had broken through the heavy glass doors of the terrace, completely ignoring the sharp shards.
He stood in the center of the room, dripping wet, holding a heavy iron crowbar in one hand.
Arthur stood a few feet away from him, his firearm raised with a steady hand.
"Stand down, Julian!" Arthur shouted over the din of the alarm. "The police are already on their way! You have nowhere to go!"
Julian let out a sickening, booming laugh, stepping closer to Arthur, completely unfazed by the weapon pointed at his chest.
"The police? In this storm? They'll be too late to save you, old man," Julian sneered.
With a speed that defied his age, Julian swung the heavy crowbar forward.
Arthur fired a shot, the deafening crack echoing through the confined space, but the bullet went wide, chipping the stone fireplace.
The crowbar struck Arthur's arm, sending the firearm flying across the wooden floor into the shadows.
Arthur collapsed onto the ground, groaning in pain as he clutched his fractured arm.
Julian stood over him, raising the crowbar for a final, lethal blow.
"No!" I screamed, running out of the hallway into the living room, completely empty of fear, fueled entirely by pure adrenaline and rage.
I grabbed a heavy, solid bronze statue from the side table and lunged at him, swinging it with all my might.
The bronze struck Julian squarely across the side of his face.
He let out a sharp grunt, stumbling backward into the coffee table, which shattered under his weight.
The crowbar clattered to the floor.
I stood between him and the injured Arthur, my chest heaving, holding the heavy statue like a club.
Julian wiped a streak of blood from his cheek, looking up at me with eyes full of manic appreciation.
"There she is," he whispered, a twisted, bloody smile on his face. "The real daughter of the family. You actually have some fire in you."
He began to slowly push himself up from the ruins of the table, his joints popping, his presence radiating pure malice.
"But fire burns out, niece. And I have a lifetime of rage backing me up."
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I stepped back, my arms shaking from the weight of the statue, realizing that the physical confrontation was far from over.
The police were still minutes away, and it was just me standing between a lunatic and my family.
