Chapter 5 - The Glass House
Smoke grenades filled the bedroom with thick, acrid gray air.
I dropped to the floor, wrapping my body completely around Leo, shielding his fragile head with my torso as glass showered over us like hail. Leo let out a piercing, terrified scream.
THWIP! THWIP! THWIP!
Suppressed gunshots tore through the smoke. Eric fired back three times, his weapon roaring in the tight space, echoing like thunder off the concrete walls.
"Elena! Get in the room!" Eric yelled through the haze.
I scrambled on my knees across the carpet, reaching the full-length mirror at the back of the walk-in closet. I pressed my palm against the hidden biometric scanner hidden behind the mahogany frame.
CLICK.
The heavy steel door slid open quietly. I threw myself inside the pitch-black panic room, pulling Leo close to my neck, smelling his sweet baby lotion mixed with the harsh tang of gunpowder.
Outside, the sounds of a violent struggle echoed through the bedroom. Furniture smashed. Glass crushed under heavy boots. A deep, gruff voice with a thick European accent called out over the chaos.
"Where is the child, Whitaker?!"
"Go to hell!" Eric’s voice sounded muffled, followed by the sickening thud of a heavy blow landing against flesh.
My heart stopped. Through the tiny two-way optical slit in the reinforced steel door, I watched in horrific silence.
Eric was pinned against our king-sized bed by two large men in dark tactical gear. Standing in front of them was a tall, silver-haired man wearing an immaculate charcoal suit—Victor Mercer.
Mercer wiped a speck of soot from his lapel, looking around the ruined bedroom with mild amusement. He held a small silver USB drive between his fingers.
"We found Julian's little ledger in the Baja safe house, Eric," Mercer said smoothly, his voice cold and refined. "Your little rescue operation was completely in vain. Julian and Maya have already served their purpose."
"If you touched her..." Eric choked out, blood dripping from his mouth onto his white shirt, "I will burn your entire organization to the ground."
"You won't do anything, Mr. Whitaker," Mercer chuckled softly, stepping closer to Eric. "Because you are a software developer who plays at being a dangerous man. You built a pretty lie for your wife, didn't you? You told her you were keeping her safe."
Mercer reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a photograph, tossing it onto the blood-stained carpet in front of Eric.
"Tell me, Eric... did you ever tell sweet Elena the truth about why you really agreed to hide Julian?" Mercer asked, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Did you tell her that you were the primary investor who funded my firm ten years ago? That your foundation built the software we used to move the money?"
Inside the dark panic room, my breath caught in my throat. The world went completely silent.
I stared at the back of my husband's head through the optical slit.
No. No, that's a lie. It's a lie.
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"Shut up," Eric rasped, his voice trembling—not with pain, but with utter, pathetic fear. "Shut your mouth, Mercer!"
"She lost a baby six months ago, didn't she?" Mercer leaned down, whispering directly into Eric's ear, his voice carrying clearly through the panic room's microphone system. "How tragic. I wonder how she would feel knowing that the stress that killed her unborn child was caused by the very syndicate her own husband helped build."
