Chapter 4 - THE ASSASSIN IN THE WALLS
Gunfire erupted from the east corridor, the sharp, percussive blasts shattering the expensive tranquility of my mansion. The heavy thud of boots echoed on the marble floors. They were moving with tactical precision, which meant these weren't street thugs; these were highly trained mercenaries, bought and paid for by Marcus's deep, hidden pockets.
I moved through the shadows of my own home like a phantom, Silas covering my six. The estate was massive, a labyrinth of hallways and hidden passages I had designed specifically for a siege. We cut through the library, the smell of old paper and leather mixing with the acrid scent of cordite in the air.
"Two tangos, ten o'clock," Silas whispered over the comms earpiece.
I didn't hesitate. I stepped out from behind a mahogany bookshelf and fired twice. Both men dropped instantly, clean headshots that spoke of years of ruthless conditioning. I didn't feel remorse; I felt rage. They had brought war into the home where three innocent children were sleeping.
We reached the fortified hallway leading to the safe room. My heart hammered against my ribs. Three men were planting a thermite charge on the reinforced steel door. Inside that room, six-year-old Sophie was likely huddled over her baby brothers, terrified.
"Drop 'em," I growled.
Silas and I opened fire simultaneously. The corridor turned into a slaughterhouse. Bullets shredded the priceless paintings on the walls and shattered the crystal chandeliers, but the mercenaries went down in a pool of their own blood before they could detonate the charge.
I rushed to the keypad, my fingers flying over the numbers with a frantic energy I hadn't felt in years. The heavy steel door hissed open.
Inside, the room was dimly lit. Sophie was curled in the corner, clutching a blanket over the twins' bassinet, her eyes wide with a terror that broke something deep inside my soul. She didn't cry. She just stared at the blood on my hands and the gun in my grip.
"Mr. Andrew?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
I dropped the gun to the floor and fell to my knees, sliding across the polished concrete until I was right in front of her. "I've got you, little bird. I'm right here. Nobody is going to hurt you."
She threw her small arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder. She smelled like baby powder and fear. I wrapped my arms tightly around her tiny frame, my eyes meeting Silas over her head.
"Clean this up," I ordered silently, mouthing the words so as not to scare the child further. "And check the bodies. I want to know how they bypassed the outer grid without triggering the silent alarms."
Silas nodded grimly, stepping out and sealing the door behind him. I sat on the floor of the safe room for an hour, rocking Sophie until the adrenaline faded from her system and she fell into a fitful sleep against my chest. The twins slept peacefully, oblivious to the violence outside their reinforced walls.
When my comms finally buzzed, it was Silas. His voice was heavy, laced with a betrayal that I knew all too well.
"Andrew," Silas said quietly. "I checked the bodies. They didn't bypass the grid. They had keycards. High-level access."
"Who?" I demanded.
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"It was Jenkins. Your lieutenant. He disabled the cameras from the security hub ten minutes before they hit the wall. He's gone, boss. He took a chopper from the roof and fled."
Jenkins. A man who had eaten at my table, a man whose wedding I had financed. Marcus hadn't just resurrected himself; he had infected my organization like a virus. The walls of my impenetrable fortress were closing in, but as I looked down at the sleeping girl in my arms, I made a silent vow. Marcus wanted a war. I was going to give him an apocalypse.
