Chapter 5 - The Serpent's Counterstrike
The heavy steel door of the vault had barely settled back into its frame when the sound of running footsteps echoed down the iron staircase.
Marcus dropped to one knee at the corner of the corridor, his weapon raised. "Boss! We’ve got company! Local tactical unit, but they aren't wearing Boston PD badges—they're private contractors!"
A flash-bang grenade bounced down the concrete steps, exploding in a blinding flash of white light and a deafening CRACK.
The concussive wave knocked me backward, my ears ringing with high-pitched static. Before I could hit the hard floor, Cassian’s arm caught me around the waist, pulling me behind the thick steel door frame of the vault.
Automatic gunfire shattered the damp silence of the basement, bullets ricocheting off the concrete walls in showers of bright sparks.
"Julian Ashcroft," Cassian growled, his face dark with lethal fury as he drew a dark steel pistol from beneath his coat. "The old bastard had a GPS tracker wired into the city’s drainage grid near the theater."
"They're going to destroy the evidence!" I yelled over the deafening chatter of rifle fire.
"They're going to try," Cassian corrected grimly. He turned to me, his dark eyes burning with absolute command. "Stay inside the vault, Elena. Lock the door from the inside until I come back for you."
"No!" I grabbed his lapel, refusing to let go. "I'm not hiding in a box while you fight my father's battles!"
Cassian paused, staring down at me through the haze of gun smoke filling the hallway. A dark, terrifying smile touched his lips. "You really are a dangerous woman, aren't you?"
He racked the slide of his pistol and handed me a small, compact revolver from his ankle holster. "Five shots. Heavy trigger pull. If anyone steps through that door who isn't me or Marcus, shoot them in the chest."
Outside the vault, Marcus and Cassian’s security team laid down a punishing wall of suppressive fire. Cassian stepped out into the hallway, moving with fluid, terrifying precision. He fired three controlled shots down the corridor; three body armor-clad mercenaries collapsed onto the concrete floor.
I ducked behind the heavy steel table inside the vault, holding the heavy revolver in both hands, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs.
Through the smoke, a figure managed to slip past Cassian’s defensive line, crawling through the side ventilation duct.
It was Maestro Adrian Falk.
He stumbled into the vault, his designer coat torn, a snub-nosed pistol trembling in his hand. His face was twisted in a mixture of horror and frantic greed as his eyes landed on the brass-bound wooden chest.
"Give me the tapes, girl!" Falk shrieked, raising his weapon toward me. "Give them to me! They're mine! I built that music! I gave it life!"
"You stole it, Falk!" I shouted, standing up from behind the table, leveling the revolver directly at his chest. "You spent thirty years pretending to be a genius while my father worked himself to death!"
"Your father was a nobody!" Falk screamed, stepping closer. "A filthy mechanic who smelled of oil and cheap beer! He didn't deserve to have his name on a masterpiece!"
"He was ten times the man you'll ever be," I said, my finger tightening on the heavy steel trigger. "Step back."
Falk lunged forward, reaching for the master tapes on the table.
I didn't hesitate.
BANG.
The shot echoed inside the small concrete vault. The bullet struck the stone floor two inches from Falk’s leather boot, shattering the concrete and spraying sharp splinters across his shins.
Falk shrieked, dropping his gun, falling backward onto his hands and knees, clutching his leg in terror.
Cassian stepped through the shattered doorway a second later, gun smoke curling from the barrel of his weapon. He took in the scene in half a second—Falk cowering on the floor, the master tapes untouched, and me standing tall over the desk with the revolver steady in my hands.
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Cassian walked over, calmly kicked Falk’s fallen pistol into the corner, and wrapped his arm tightly around my waist, pulling my back against his chest.
"Nice shot, Miss Marlow," Cassian murmured against my hair, his chest rising and falling in heavy, steady breaths. "Now let's go collect your inheritance."
