Chapter 6 - Blood in the Blizzard
At 2:50 AM, the estate fell into artificial darkness.
The grand chandeliers flickered and died as Gabriel killed the main transformer, leaving only the dull amber glow of the emergency floor strips running along the baseboards. Outside, the blizzard screamed off Lake Michigan, hurling sheets of blinding white across the manicured lawns.
Gabriel stood behind the bullet-resistant glass of the second-floor library, overlooking the south terrace. He wore a black tactical sweater, body armor beneath, and held an assault rifle with an integrated suppressor.
Through his thermal optics, the world was a wash of cool blues and greens.
Then, at the edge of the tree line near the south gate, three white-hot silhouettes appeared. Then three more. Then six.
Twelve men in snow camouflage, moving in tight, military-grade bounding overwatch. They carried compact HK416s, their thermal scopes scanning the dark windows of the mansion.
They breached the wrought-iron gate using silent hydraulic spreaders, slipping onto the estate grounds like ghosts.
“Dante,” Gabriel murmured into his throat mic. “They’re past the tennis pavilion. Sector four.”
*“Copy that, boss,”* Dante’s gravelly voice crackled in his earpiece. *“Boys are in position behind the garden balustrades. Waiting on your mark.”*
“Hold until the lead element reaches the fountain. I want them caught in the crossfire.”
The mercenaries moved with terrifying precision. They weren't street thugs; these were men trained to clear government compounds. The lead scout signaled with a closed fist. Two men peeled off toward the service entrance—the exact door leading to the scullery where Grace was supposed to be waiting.
They intended to kill Grace first, grab Lily, and exit before the estate security even realized a breach had occurred.
The point man reached the edge of the frozen marble fountain.
“Light them,” Gabriel said.
Instantly, four high-intensity magnesium perimeter flares erupted around the courtyard with a deafening *whoosh*, bathing the snow in blinding, white-violet daylight.
The thermal night-vision goggles worn by the mercenaries instantly whited out, blinding them in a flash of overwhelming brilliance. Cries of shock were instantly swallowed by the roar of gunfire.
From the balustrades, four Moretti marksmen opened fire.
The crack of suppressed rifles was like heavy canvas ripping in the wind. The point man collapsed into the snow before he could even raise his weapon, dark crimson blossoming across his white chest rig. The second man took two rounds to the pelvis, screaming as he rolled behind the stone fountain.
The remaining mercenaries reacted with brutal military discipline. They dropped into prone positions, returning fully automatic fire toward the balustrades, stone chips and pulverized marble spraying into the air.
Gabriel leveled his rifle through the sliding window port of the library.
He exhaled slowly.
*Crack. Crack.*
The mercenary covering the left flank snapped backward, his weapon clattering across the ice.
Gabriel shifted his point of aim.
*Crack.*
Another shooter, attempting to deploy a smoke canister near the terrace steps, dropped limp into a snowbank.
Below, the heavy roar of a combat shotgun echoed across the courtyard. Dante emerged from the lower breezeway like an enraged bear, firing heavy deer-slugs that smashed through tactical vests and shattered cover. A mercenary lunged at him with a combat knife; Dante sidestepped, caught the man by the throat, and slammed him face-first into the brick pillar, dropping him instantly.
Within ninety seconds, nine of the twelve attackers lay motionless in the stained red snow.
The surviving three realized the ambush had failed completely. They retreated toward the tree line, firing suppression bursts behind them.
“Dante, don't let them reach the vehicles,” Gabriel commanded, moving toward the grand staircase. “I want the team leader alive.”
Gabriel took the stairs three at a time, kicking open the south garden doors into the freezing fury of the blizzard.
The wind tore at his hair, the temperature biting into his skin. He raised his rifle, moving across the terrace with clinical speed.
A silhouette rose from behind the stone lion near the steps, leveling a pistol straight at Gabriel’s chest.
Gabriel didn't break stride. He fired two rounds through the lion’s carved mane; the 5.56 rounds punched through the limestone and struck the shooter in the collarbone. The man collapsed, groaning in agony, clutching his shattered shoulder.
Gabriel stepped over him, kicked the pistol into a snowbank, and ground his heavy tactical boot directly onto the man’s wound.
The mercenary screamed, arching off the frozen ground.
Gabriel leaned down, his face inches from the man’s tactical mask. He ripped the balaclava off, revealing a scarred, middle-aged face with cold gray eyes, now dilated with agony.
“Who hired you?” Gabriel asked, his voice calmer than the blizzard around them.
“Go to hell, Moretti,” the man spat, blood bubbling over his lips.
Gabriel applied another twenty pounds of pressure to the shattered collarbone. Bone fragments ground together audibly. The man’s scream turned into a wet screech.
“You have five seconds before I let Dante take his pliers to your teeth,” Gabriel said. “Who gave you the clearance codes for my south gate?”
The mercenary choked, thrashing beneath Gabriel’s boot. “Vance! Vance gave us the codes! But he didn't get them from the maid!”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Who gave them to Vance?”
“A man inside your circle!” the mercenary gasped, terror finally breaking through his training. “The codes were transmitted an hour ago from inside this house! Vance has a partner in Chicago! Someone who wants you dead as much as he does!”
Before Gabriel could ask the name, a high-caliber rifle shot cracked from the darkness of the tree line beyond the perimeter wall.
The bullet tore through the mercenary’s temple, killing him instantly in a spray of bone and gray matter against the white snow.
Gabriel dropped flat, rolling behind the stone balustrade as two more high-velocity rounds cracked into the brick above his head.
A sniper. Positioned outside the estate grounds, covering the extraction team’s tracks.
By the time Dante and his men laid down suppression fire toward the ridge, the sniper had vanished into the pine forest, the rumble of a distant snowmobile fading into the howling storm.
Gabriel stood up, brushing snow from his armor. He looked down at the dead mercenary.
*Someone inside this house.*
Margaret Collins was locked in the cellar. Elena and Lily were under armed guard in the East Suite.
Which meant the snake in Gabriel’s house wasn't just a bitter household manager.
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There was a traitor in the inner circle.
***
