Chapter 16 : The Ambush in the Duat

23 0 0
                                        

No One’s POV

The corridor beyond the stone door was darker than the rest of the museum — narrow, twisting, and lined with replicas of tomb walls. The air felt colder, heavier, like the space itself was holding its breath.

Voight and Samantha walked at the front.

Still side‑by‑side. 
Still in sync. 
Still talking quietly like the world behind them didn’t exist.

Everyone else followed — Intelligence, her parents, her brothers — whispering, watching, waiting.

But none of them expected what came next.

---

⭐ The Ambush

The moment they stepped into the wider chamber, the lights snapped on.

Bright. 
Blinding. 
Artificial.

And then—

Gunfire erupted.

Not graphic. 
Not gory. 
Just the deafening crack of shots echoing off stone walls.

Voight reacted instantly.

He grabbed Samantha by the arm and pulled her behind a stone pillar, shielding her with his body.

“Stay down,” he ordered, voice low and steady.

She didn’t argue.

Everyone scattered for cover — her brothers pulling their parents behind a display, Intelligence returning fire in controlled bursts.

Ruzek shouted, “Multiple shooters!”

Atwater yelled, “Positions!”

Alejandro whispered, “This is a setup!”

Mateo whispered, “A ritual setup.”

And he was right.

Because the shooters weren’t aiming to kill.

They were herding.

Driving them deeper.

Toward the center of the chamber.

Toward the ritual.

---

⭐ Samantha’s POV — The Capture

Voight leaned close. “You good?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He almost smiled — even here, even now.

Then the floor shifted.

A trap door.

A pressure plate.

A mechanism.

Before I could warn him, the ground beneath me dropped.

I fell.

Fast.

A short drop — not enough to injure, but enough to separate.

Voight reached for me.

“SAMANTHA!”

His voice echoed through the chamber.

I hit the floor below — a stone platform, dimly lit by torches.

Before I could stand, hands grabbed me.

Not hurting me — just restraining.

Rough ropes. 
Cold metal cuffs. 
A ritual circle painted on the floor.

The New DetectiveStories to obsess over. Discover now