“Sir, the feds are in the house,” Marcus said.

“I said shoot them!” Charles screamed.

Ryan did not hesitate.

He tightened his finger on the trigger of his revolver.

He aimed at my father.

I lunged forward, throwing my weight against Ryan’s arm.

The gun went off.

The deafening roar of the gunshot filled the tight concrete room.

A bullet chipped the concrete wall behind my father.

Dust and sparks flew through the air.

Ryan swung his arm, hitting me with the barrel of the gun.

I fell to the floor, my head striking the hard ground.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard my father move.

He did not hesitate.

He stepped toward Ryan with blinding speed.

He grabbed Ryan’s wrist, twisting it upward.

Another shot fired into the ceiling.

“Get off him!” Marcus yelled, raising his rifle.

Before Marcus could pull the trigger, the heavy steel door at the top of the stairs was kicked open.

A bright tactical light illuminated the dark stairwell.

“Federal tactical team!” a voice shouted.

“Drop your weapons and get on the ground!”

But Ryan was not listening.