Chapter 9 - The Breach At The Eastern Gate And The Shadow In The Library
The amber warning light on the security console pulsed with a hypnotic, terrifying rhythm, casting an eerie, amber glow over the quiet wood-paneled alcove.
On the split-screen monitor, the heavy iron chains of the eastern perimeter gate strained under the massive torque of a reinforced black tow-truck winch attached to the front of the intruder van.
Clang!
The steel links snapped like dry twigs.
The iron gates swung wide open, and the black van roared through the snow-covered entrance, followed closely by two unmarked SUVs carrying at least a dozen armed men.
“They’re inside,” Kai murmured, his voice as cold and flat as a slab of winter ice.
He reached down, unsnapped the leather strap of his shoulder holster, and pulled out his Beretta with a smooth, silent motion, checking the chamber with a practiced flick of his wrist.
“Stay in the reinforced study with Chloe and Lily,” Kai ordered, his eyes locked on me. “Arthur has already sealed the internal security bulkheads. Once I close this hallway door, nothing short of an anti-tank missile is getting through.”
“No,” I said, stepping firmly into his path. “I’m not hiding in a closet while you walk into a slaughterhouse, Kai. Clara was my sister too. I helped her run, and I’m going to help finish this.”
Kai stared at me, a flash of surprise crossing his face before settling into a grim, unyielding mask of respect.
He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a compact, matte-black Sig Sauer pistol, and held it out handle-first toward me.
“Do you know how to use it?” Kai asked quietly.
I reached out, my fingers wrapping firmly around the cold polymer grip of the gun, feeling its comforting weight in my palm.
“My father taught me how to shoot in the New Hampshire woods when I was twelve,” I said, pulling back the slide to check the loaded magazine. “I haven't forgotten.”
A faint, grim smirk touched the corner of Kai’s mouth.
“Good. Watch my six.”
We moved down the hallway with silent, tactical precision.
Behind us, the heavy steel bulkhead door slid into place with a definitive, mechanical hiss, sealing the east wing art gallery and master suite off from the rest of the mansion.
Lily and Chloe were safely tucked away inside the subterranean panic room beneath the library—a bunker impervious to everything outside.
We reached the grand mahogany staircase overlooking the main foyer.
Downstairs, the heavy front doors hadn't been picked or blown open.
Instead, the entire wall of reinforced double glass facing the front terrace had been shattered inward in a deafening explosion of flying shards and white smoke.
Through the haze, dark tactical figures in black ski masks poured into the Harrington mansion, their assault rifles raised, sweeping the marble foyer with laser sights.
“Clear!” a muffled voice shouted through a gas mask.
“Move to the west wing! Secure the targets!” another yelled.
Kai and I crouched behind the carved wooden banister on the second-floor landing, side by side, our pistols leveled at the center of the staircase.
“Wait for them to reach the halfway landing,” Kai whispered in my ear, his breath warm against my cheek.
I nodded, my finger resting lightly against the trigger of the Sig Sauer, my heart beating a steady, rhythmic tattoo against my ribs.
Five men in tactical gear stepped onto the bottom of the grand staircase, their heavy boots crunching on the broken glass, starting their climb upward toward us.
One.
Two.
May you like
Three steps up.
“Now,” Kai muttered.
