Chapter 7 - Blood and Gunpowder
The dramatic arrest of Arthur Vance at the Plaza Hotel should have been the end of the nightmare. But cornered rats are the most dangerous beasts in the woods.
Two nights later, as the legal team processed Arthur’s extradition papers to London under heavy guard, Arthur’s final contingency plan was triggered.
Using forty million dollars in off-shore emergency accounts, Arthur’s loyal mercenary syndicate launched a desperate, suicidal assault on the Blackthorne estate. Their goal was simple: execute Genevieve, eliminate Dominic, and erase the evidence before the federal courts sealed the indictments.
It was three in the morning when the perimeter alarms shrieked across the estate.
The power to Blackthorne House was instantly cut, plunging the mansion into darkness. Automatic gunfire erupted at the front gates as fifty heavily armed mercenaries breached the outer security walls.
"Target secured in the panic room!" Marcus screamed over the internal comms as tactical lights flashed in the main hallway. "Boss, they brought heavy ordinance! They’re breaching the east wing!"
Inside the subterranean vault beneath the estate, I sat with Caleb in my arms. The six-year-old boy was surprisingly quiet, holding his teddy bear tightly, his trust in us absolute.
"Mara..." Caleb whispered, looking up at me in the dim emergency lighting. "Is Papa going to win?"
I looked at the heavy steel vault doors. I could hear the distant, muffled echoes of explosions and gunfire echoing through the concrete walls above.
"Your father is invincible, Caleb," I told him, kissing his forehead. "Stay right here. Cover your ears."
I stood up, walked to the weapons locker inside the vault, and pulled out a sleek, black 9mm pistol. I racked the slide, chambering a round with practiced efficiency.
I was no longer just the young girl who ran away from a burning house. I was a woman who had bled for this family, and I was not going to sit in a dark room while Dominic fought for our lives.
Suddenly, the heavy electronic locks on the vault door whirred. The reinforced steel door creaked open.
I raised the handgun, my finger resting on the trigger.
A tall figure stepped through the smoke in the doorway. It was Dominic.
His tactical vest was scarred, his face smudged with soot and blood, but he was standing tall. In his right hand, he dragged a battered, handcuffed Arthur Vance, who had escaped his transport earlier that night only to be hunted down in the estate woods by Dominic himself.
Dominic looked at me holding the gun, a proud, breathtaking smile breaking through the grime on his face.
"You look good with a weapon, Lady Genevieve," Dominic rasped out, dropping Arthur onto the cold concrete floor at my feet.
Arthur looked up at me, his face bruised, his empire burned to the ground, his life over.
"You..." Arthur wheezed out, coughing up blood. "You were supposed to die in the fire..."
I lowered the gun slowly and looked down at the man who had destroyed my childhood.
"Fire doesn't destroy gold, Arthur," I said, my voice cold and calm. "It just purifies it."
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Dominic stepped behind Arthur, forcing him to his knees, while Marcus and two armed guards stepped in to take custody of the mercenary leader once and for all. Federal agents and sirens were already flooding the estate grounds above.
The war was finally over.
