Chapter 5 - Siege at the Garden Estate
The heavy iron security gate of the Maro estate crumpled with a sickening screech of twisted steel as the first black sedan smashed through the barrier, followed closely by two more vehicles packed with armed mercenaries.
Inside the mansion, the emergency crimson security lights flashed rhythmically against the mahogany walls, casting an eerie, war-zone glow across the hallways.
“Donovan, secure the nursery panic room!” Antoine ordered, pivoting toward the hallway with his weapon raised. “Get Dela and the triplets into the sub-basement bunker immediately!”
“Boss, what about you?” Donovan shouted over the distant pop of suppressed gunfire echoing across the front courtyard.
“I’m going to greet our guests,” Antoine replied with a terrifying, humorless smile.
I stood frozen in the center of the study, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. Mrs. Dufor had already been zip-tied to a heavy dining chair by Donovan and left under the guard of a loyal enforcer, but the real threat was crashing through the front doors right now.
“Dela, take my hand,” Antoine said, his voice softening for a split second as he looked at me. He reached into his coat pocket and pressed a heavy, steel-encased encrypted satellite phone into my palm. “If anything happens to me, you take the kids through the escape tunnel behind the library fireplace. The code is 0417—the day you gave birth.”
Before I could protest, the heavy oak front doors of the mansion splintered inward with a deafening crash.
Glass shattered. Shouts echoed down the vaulted corridors.
“Move! Now!” Antoine yelled, shoving me gently toward the secret library corridor just as a hail of automatic gunfire chewed through the drywalls of the main foyer.
I didn't hesitate. I sprinted toward the nursery, sweeping little Elena out of her crib while Donovan scooped up Leo and Liam with practiced, military precision. We bolted through the hidden wood-paneled door behind the library bookshelf just as three tactical operatives in black balaclavas kicked open the study doors, raising their carbines.
BANG! BANG!
Antoine’s pistol answered from the shadows of the foyer. The first mercenary dropped instantly, tumbling backward down the marble staircase. The second and third scattered for cover behind the marble pillars as Antoine advanced with cold, calculated lethal grace, utilizing every angle of the architectural layout to neutralize the vanguard of the assault team.
Down in the subterranean reinforced panic room, the heavy steel bulkhead slammed shut with a hydraulic hiss, sealing us off from the chaos above.
I clutched Elena tightly to my chest, rocking her back and forth as she whimpered in my arms. Leo and Liam were crying softly in Donovan’s grasp.
May you like
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked Donovan, my voice breaking as the muffled concussive thud of a flashbang grenade echoed through the ventilation shafts overhead.
Donovan kept his weapon trained on the reinforced steel door, his face impassive. “Lady Marsh, the boss has survived three cartel wars, two corporate takeovers, and a federal indictment. A squad of corporate thugs sent by an aging matriarch isn't going to scratch him. But when he clears this house... heads are going to roll from here to Geneva.”
