Chapter 7 - Shadows in the Pantry
The air inside the main house was thick with the scent of aged mahogany, polished brass, and expensive imported espresso.
Through the heavy oak door of the pantry, the muffled sound of classical piano music drifted in from the grand salon.
Chloe pressed her ear against the wooden panel, closing her eyes to filter out the ambient noise of the sprawling estate.
“That’s Chopin,” Lorenzo whispered, his face hardening as he recognized the melody.
“Sofia plays it when she’s stressed.”
“She’s awake,” Chloe noted, keeping her voice completely level.
“Which means Victor hasn't moved her to a secondary location yet.”
“He’s keeping her in the family parlor as a living insurance policy.”
She cracked the pantry door half an inch, peering out into the long, vaulted corridor that connected the service wing to the main foyer.
A single mercenary stood at the far end of the hallway near the double doors of the study, wearing a comms headset and holding an MP5 submachine gun across his chest.
“One guard at the study entrance,” Chloe whispered, not turning her head.
“There should be two more stationed near the grand staircase based on the thermal sweep we pulled from the traffic cams outside.”
“Can you take the one in the hall silently?” Lorenzo asked, his fingers tightening around the grip of his Glock.
“I can,” Chloe replied.
“But the moment he hits the floor, his comms unit will broadcast an open-microphone alert to the rest of his squad.”
“We have roughly twelve seconds before the stairs empty out.”
Lorenzo looked down the long corridor, calculating the distance and the angles with the cold precision of a mob boss who had survived three internal purges.
“Give me the knife from your boot rig,” he said quietly.
Chloe looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of hesitation.
She saw none.
She unclipped the combat knife from her left boot and slid it handle-first into his right hand.
“On my count,” she whispered.
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
They moved out of the pantry simultaneously.
Chloe broke into a rapid, silent sprint down the left side of the corridor while Lorenzo drifted toward the right shadow line behind a towering marble column.
The guard at the end of the hall heard the slight shift in the air and turned his head, raising the muzzle of his submachine gun.
Before he could clear the safety, Chloe slid across the polished hardwood floor, driving her left boot directly into the back of his knee.
The guard buckled forward with a sharp gasp.
Before he could hit the floor, Lorenzo materialized from the shadow of the column, his left arm wrapping around the man’s throat while his right hand drove the combat knife upward beneath the base of the skull.
It was a clean, merciless, and completely silent strike.
The guard went limp instantly, his body sliding softly onto the Persian rug without a single cry escaping his lips.
Chloe caught the falling MP5 before it hit the floor, checking the safety and sling position in less than a second.
She dragged the body behind the marble column, tossing the dead man’s comms earpiece onto the floor beside him.
“Good form for a civilian,” she noted dryly.
“I spent my childhood dodging men who carried knives, Chloe,” Lorenzo replied, his breathing shallow as he handed the bloodstained blade back to her.
“In my world, you learn how to use them or you become one.”
“We’re at the study doors,” Chloe said, ignoring the banter as she reached the heavy mahogany entrance of his father’s old office.
Through the polished brass keyhole, a faint yellow strip of light cut across the dark hallway floor.
May you like
From inside the room, the sound of a familiar, smooth voice drifted through the wood.
It was Victor Vance.
