Chapter 5 - The Siege of Highland Park
While gunfire erupted at the South Slip docks ten miles away, a quiet terror was unfolding at the Ashford estate in Highland Park.
The rain had intensified, drumming relentless rhythm against the glass windows of Elena’s suite.
Elena sat on the edge of the bed, her boots laced tight, holding the encrypted phone Dominic had left her. Across the room, Marco’s secondary lieutenant—a young, serious soldier named Gabe—stood by the door with a shotgun held across his chest.
Suddenly, the lights in the suite flickered twice and died.
The room plunged into darkness, lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the rain-slicked window.
Gabe instantly raised his weapon, stepping in front of Elena. "Stay behind me, Miss Vance. The backup generator should kick on in five seconds..."
Ten seconds passed. The estate remained completely dark.
"They cut the main line," Elena whispered, her heart dropping into her stomach. "And they bypassed the sub-station. Gabe, it’s a breach."
Gabe hit his shoulder radio. "Security One to Main Gate. We have a power loss in Sector Two. Come in, Gate."
Static answered him. A long, cold hiss of dead air.
THUD.
A soft sound echoed from the roof directly above them—the unmistakable sound of tactical boots landing on copper gutters.
"Get in the bathroom! Now!" Gabe barked, shoving Elena toward the reinforced side door.
Before Elena could reach the bathroom, the high-tensile glass of the bedroom window shattered inward!
Two figures dressed in black tactical gear swung through the broken window on ropes, silhouetted against the dark sky. Flashbang grenades bounced across the carpet.
BANG!
A blinding flash of white light and a deafening explosion ripped through the room. The concussive wave threw Elena off her feet. She slammed hard into the side of the mahogany nightstand, pain exploding through her cracked ribs like liquid fire.
Her ears rang with a high-pitched whine. She couldn't see. She couldn't breathe.
Through the haze of smoke and flashing light, she saw Gabe firing his shotgun twice—the heavy booms echoing through the room—before a burst of automatic gunfire tore through his chest. Gabe collapsed onto the rug, his blood pooling into the dark fabric.
One of the masked men stepped over Gabe’s body, his weapon lowered, his eyes cold behind a night-vision visor. He walked directly toward Elena, pulling a pair of heavy zip-ties from his tactical vest.
"Vincent wants you alive, bitch," the man rasped through his gas mask.
Elena scrambled backward on her elbows, her lungs burning, her hands slick with carpet dust and broken glass. Her back hit the wall beside the fireplace.
Her fingers brushed against something heavy and metallic on the stone hearth—a heavy brass fire poker.
The mercenary reached down to grab her hair.
With a primal scream of pure, desperate fury, Elena swung the brass poker with all her strength!
CLANG!
The heavy brass hook caught the man right across the side of his visor, shattering the plastic lens and crushing his cheekbone beneath. He screamed, staggering back, clutching his bleeding face.
Elena didn't hesitate. She scrambled up, ignoring the agonizing scream of her ribs, grabbed Gabe’s fallen shotgun from the floor, and pulled the trigger toward the second mercenary coming through the window.
BOOM!
The heavy 12-gauge slug hit the second man squarely in the chest, throwing him back out through the shattered window frame, tumbling fifty feet down onto the stone courtyard below.
The first mercenary, his face covered in blood, lunged at her from the floor, grabbing her ankle. "You crazy bitch—"
Elena racked the shotgun with a sharp CLACK-CLACK, aimed it straight down at his head, and pulled the trigger.
BOOM!
Silence returned to the room, broken only by the sound of the rain pouring through the broken window and Elena’s ragged, terrified gasps for air.
She stood in the center of the ruined room, covered in soot, glass, and blood, holding the heavy smoking shotgun in her trembling hands.
The door to the suite was suddenly kicked off its hinges.
Dominic Ashford rushed into the room, his coat gone, his shirt stained with rain and gunsmoke, a heavy assault rifle raised in his hands. Behind him, three more guards flooded the hallway.
Dominic froze when he saw the scene: the shattered window, the two dead mercenaries, and Elena standing in the dark, bloodied but unbowed, holding a shotgun twice her size.
Dominic dropped his rifle to his side, sprinting across the room in two strides. He grabbed the heavy shotgun from her hands, tossed it aside, and pulled her hard into his arms.
"I've got you," Dominic breathed into her hair, his arms wrapping around her with frantic, crushing strength. "I've got you, Elena."
Elena’s strength finally gave out. The shotgun fell, her knees buckled, and she collapsed against his chest, clutching his wet shirt as tears finally poured down her face.
"They came for me," she sobbed into his collarbone. "They... they killed Gabe..."
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Dominic held her tighter, his jaw set in a line of pure, terrifying fury as he stared at the dead assassin on the floor.
"They failed," Dominic whispered into her ear, his hand cradling the back of her head. "And now, Vincent Caldwell is going to pay for every drop of blood spilled in this house."
