Chapter 4 - The Siege at the Estate
The heavy oak doors of the master suite burst open. Lev stepped inside, holding a silenced submachine gun, his forehead bleeding from a fresh grazing wound.
“Boss!” Lev shouted over the blaring alarms. “It’s Sterling’s vanguard! They hit the outer gates with three armored transport trucks! They must have tracked Evan’s vehicle beacon before we crushed it!”
Damian didn’t flinch. He stood up smoothly, drawing a heavy matte-black pistol from a chest holster concealed under his jacket.
“How many?” Damian asked calmly.
“Thirty men minimum,” Lev replied. “Professional mercenaries. Heavy body armor, flashbangs, and thermal breaching charges. They’re pushing through the east wing.”
Damian turned to me. Without a word of hesitation, he scooped me into his arms, cast and all, holding me securely against his chest. His heart beat strong and steady against my cheek, completely unhurried by the chaos unfolding around us.
“Damian, leave me!” I cried, clutching his shoulders as gunfire echoed through the long corridors outside. “They’re coming for the box! If they take me—”
“They will take nothing,” Damian growled, his voice pure steel. “I lost your father nineteen years ago because I wasn’t strong enough. I will burn this entire state to the ground before I let anyone touch you.”
He carried me down a hidden spiral staircase concealed behind a bookcase, descending deep into the bedrock beneath the estate. Lev covered our rear, firing controlled bursts up the stairwell as heavy tactical boots thundered above.
We reached a reinforced steel panic room—a subterranean bunker fitted with live surveillance feeds, heavy weapons racks, and independent air scrubbers. Damian set me down gently on a leather cot, placing the steel box beside me.
He turned toward the heavy vault door, racking the slide of his handgun.
“Stay inside,” Damian ordered. “The door is four-inch titanium. Once I seal it, nothing short of a bunker-buster missile can penetrate it.”
“Damian, wait!” I reached out, catching his wrist. The warmth of his skin sent a strange, electric shiver through my veins. “Don’t go out there alone!”
He looked down at my hand gripping his wrist, then looked up at my face. A slow, breathtakingly handsome smirk touched the corners of his lips.
“I’m not alone, Maya,” he whispered, leaning down until his dark eyes were inches from mine. “I have your father’s ghost at my back. And you in my heart.”
He pressed the seal button. The massive titanium door slid shut with a heavy, pneumatic hiss, locking me inside the high-tech fortress.
I scrambled over to the surveillance monitors on the desk.
On the screens, I watched in awe as Damian and Lev turned the grand hallway into a execution ground. Damian moved like a phantom—ruthless, precise, and entirely unstoppable. Mercenaries fell in waves before his fire. He wasn cut off by their armor; he exploited every gap, moving with a terrifying lethality that proved why he was the most feared crime boss in the state.
Within ten minutes, the gunfire stopped.
The monitor showed Damian standing amidst the smoke, stepping over the fallen mercenaries. He approached the lead hitman, who was slumped against the wall, bleeding heavily.
Damian pulled off the hitman’s tactical mask, revealing a scarred man with a snake tattoo across his neck.
“Where is Victor?” Damian asked coldly, pressing the barrel of his gun against the man’s forehead.
The mercenary choked on blood, grinning maniacally. “He... he already has the second key, Cross... He took your girl’s sister an hour ago... Lily is already in his cage...”
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My blood ran completely cold.
On the monitor, Damian’s face turned into a mask of pure, murderous rage. He pulled the trigger without a second thought.
