The thunderous crack of Sullivan’s gun shattered the tense silence of the north courtyard.

Before anyone could even register his hand moving, my father let out a agonizing, choked roar as a high-caliber bullet tore cleanly through his knee. His walking stick flew into the air, and he crumpled hard onto the jagged cobblestones, clutching his shattered leg as blood pool beneath him.

An immediate, terrifying chorus of safety latches clicking echoed across the gate. Over thirty of Sullivan’s men leveled their automatic rifles at my father's squad, while Taylor's security detail frantically raised their sidearms, caught completely off guard by the ruthless speed of Sullivan's retaliation.

"Move and I...