Chapter 8 - Siege at Blackridge House
The first explosion rocked the eastern wing of Blackridge House at 1:42 in the morning.
The heavy concussive blast blew out the stained-glass windows of the grand foyer, sending a shower of glittering colored glass across the marble floor. Smoke billowed through the high ceilings as automatic gunfire began rattling against the reinforced exterior walls.
"Get down!" Adrian shouted, shoving Hannah and Noah behind the massive mahogany desk in the library while Julian drew a heavy combat knife from his belt with practiced, lethal efficiency.
"They’re using breaching charges on the kitchen doors," Julian shouted over the roar of gunfire outside. "They want the inner core."
"Victor!" Adrian yelled into his encrypted radio handset. "Status!"
"We’ve got two men down in the service corridor!" Victor's voice yelled back through a storm of static and gunfire. "The breach came from inside! It was Mrs. Gable—she just opened the staff elevator shaft for them!"
Mrs. Gable. The head cook's assistant who had worked at the estate for five years. Bought and paid for by Seattle.
"Hold the second-floor stairwell," Adrian commanded, his voice utterly steady amidst the chaos. He turned to Julian. "Take Hannah and Noah down through the hidden wine cellar tunnel. The exit leads out to the private cove. There’s a speedboat waiting at the dock with full fuel."
"I'm not leaving you here to fight a dozen mercenaries alone, little brother," Julian growled, racking the slide of a tactical shotgun he had pulled from the library's concealed cabinet.
"That's an order, Julian!" Adrian snapped, his gray eyes blazing with absolute authority. "Get them out of the house. That's all that matters tonight."
Before Julian could argue, the heavy oak doors of the library splintered inward with a deafening crash.
Through the smoke and flying splinters stepped Marcus Vance himself—tall, immaculate in a tailored gray suit despite the rain, holding a silenced submachine gun aimed directly at the center of the room. Behind him stood four heavily armed enforcers in tactical gear.
"Well, well, well," Vance smiled, his voice smooth and dripping with malicious satisfaction as he stepped over the ruined wood. "The great Adrian Cross, cornered in his own study like a rat."
Adrian didn't flinch. He slowly stepped out from behind the desk, his Sig Sauer raised and locked onto Vance’s chest.
"You're a long way from Seattle, Marcus," Adrian said coldly.
"Oregon was always a bit provincial, Adrian," Vance chuckled, taking another step forward. "Too much rain, too much timber. But with you out of the picture, the Seattle syndicate can finally clean up this coast and turn it into a legitimate shipping empire."
"You think killing me solves your problem?" Adrian asked, his voice echoing off the stone hearth.
"It solves every single one of them," Vance replied, tightening his finger on the trigger. "And don't worry about the housekeeper and her kid—we'll make sure they join you in the family crypt so there are no loose ends."
"I wouldn't count on that, Vance," a voice rasped from the shadows near the balcony stairs.
Vance’s enforcers snapped their weapons around—too late.
Julian stepped out from the darkness of the second-floor mezzanine, holding a heavy tactical flashbang in one hand and his shotgun leveled at the balcony railing.
"Drop it," Julian snarled.
Julian dropped the pin and hurled the flashbang directly into the center of the room.
FLASH! BANG!
A blinding white magnesium explosion tore through the library, accompanied by a deafening shockwave that rattled the teeth in everyone's skull.
In the absolute disorientation of the flash and roar, Adrian moved.
He lunged forward, tackling Vance to the Persian rug just as the Seattle boss tried to fire his submachine gun blindly into the air. The weapon clattered away across the floorboards. Adrian pinned Vance beneath his knees, driving his fist hard into Vance’s jaw with a sickening crunch that ended the fight instantly.
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Around the room, Julian’s shotgun boomed twice, disabling Vance's remaining enforcers with non-lethal leg shots before they could recover their vision.
Within thirty seconds, the library fell silent once more, save for the crackle of the fireplace and the hiss of rain through the shattered windows.
