Chapter 12 - THE STAND AT THE PENTHOUSE
The smell of cordite and burned carpet hung thick in the air of the upper grand staircase.
Dominic Russo had not waited for an invitation to claim Adrian's empire.
As we crept up the marble steps, we found the female security guard, Elena, slumped against the golden banister, bleeding heavily from a shoulder wound.
I rushed to her side, pressing my palms against the wound to stanch the flow of bright crimson blood.
"Dr. Carter..." Elena gasped, coughing weakly as she recognized me.
"Where are Noah and Lily?" I demanded, my heart constricting until I could barely breathe.
"Inside the panic vault... behind the study bookcase," Elena whispered, clutching my wrist.
"Mr. Russo brought a portable sonic resonance drill... they are trying to bypass the digital lock mechanism right now," Elena warned.
Adrian leaned down, gently squeezing Elena's uninjured shoulder.
"You did your job, Elena," Adrian said softly.
"Help is coming up behind us," Adrian assured her.
"Marcus, carry her into the secure service closet and apply a pressure tourniquet," Adrian instructed.
"Boss, you can't face Dominic alone without backup," Marcus protested, his weapon ready.
"I'm not alone," Adrian replied, glancing at me with absolute trust in his eyes.
"Get her secured, Marcus," Adrian repeated.
"That is an order," Adrian stated firmly.
Adrian unholstered his secondary pistol, a sleek matte-black Glock nineteen, and pressed it firmly into my hands.
"Safety is off, Evelyn," Adrian instructed, his voice low and calm.
"You point with both hands and pull the trigger until the slide locks back," Adrian taught me.
"I know how to shoot, Adrian," I replied, wrapping my fingers around the checkered grip.
"You taught me seven years ago at the lake house," I reminded him.
A flicker of deep emotion passed across Adrian's features, a fleeting glimpse of the man I had loved before the shadows swallowed us whole.
"Then let's go take our children back," Adrian said.
We moved through the shattered double doors of the penthouse library like two specters moving through a mausoleum.
The sprawling room was bathed in the harsh, flickering glare of heavy industrial work lamps powered by portable generators.
Six men dressed in unmarked tactical fatigues were gathered around the massive mahogany bookcase at the far end of the room.
The bookcase had been ripped open, exposing the seamless titanium door of the master panic vault.
In the center of the men stood Dominic Russo.
The sixty-two-year-old consigliere looked impeccable in his tailored charcoal three-piece suit, his silver hair neatly slicked back.
He held a tablet computer connected via fiber-optic cable to a drilling apparatus clamped directly over the vault's biometric scanner.
"Increase the hydraulic pressure on the diamond bit," Dominic commanded calmly, checking his gold Rolex.
"We have seven minutes before the city authorities bypass my legal blockades," Dominic noted.
"Those children need to be in the helicopter on the roof before the federal agents wake up," Dominic added.
From inside the vault, a tiny, defiant voice echoed through the external audio intercom.
"Go away, you bad man!" Noah's voice shouted, muffled but unmistakable.
"My daddy is going to come up here and throw you out the window!" Noah yelled with all the fury of a six-year-old boy.
Dominic chuckled softly, shaking his head with condescending pity.
"Your daddy is dead at the bottom of the lake, little boy," Dominic lied into the intercom.
"And once this door pops open, you and your sister belong to New York," Dominic sneered.
"He lied to you, Noah," Adrian's voice boomed across the vast library, ringing with the fury of a thousand storms.
The six mercenaries spun around, raising their weapons in a blind panic.
Adrian didn't give them the chance to acquire their targets.
He stepped out from behind the marble entryway pillar, firing his tactical weapon with lethal, terrifying speed.
Three rapid shots dropped the two mercenaries operating the drill before their fingers could even find their triggers.
I stepped out beside Adrian, raising the Glock with both arms locked and steady.
A mercenary lunged from behind a leather armchair, aiming an assault rifle straight at Adrian's chest.
My training and my maternal instincts merged into a single, instantaneous reflex.
I pulled the trigger twice.
The heavy recoil slammed through my wrists as the bullets struck the mercenary in the center of his chest plate, throwing him backward over the furniture.
Adrian cleared the remaining three guards in a brutal flurry of close-quarters combat, using his rifle barrel to shatter an elbow before putting two rounds into the final assailant.
The library fell dead silent, save for the rhythmic humming of the portable generators and the hiss of the cooling drill.
Dominic Russo stood alone against the titanium vault door, his hands trembling as he stared down the barrel of Adrian's smoking weapon.
"Dominic," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a register so cold it froze the blood in my veins.
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"You served my father for twenty-five years," Adrian reminded him, stepping over the fallen bodies.
"And you sold my children to the Luciano family for thirty pieces of silver," Adrian said, the gun never wavering from Dominic's forehead.
