Chapter 7 - The Storm over Beacon Hill
Sunday arrived wrapped in a shroud of black, heavy clouds that blocked out the sun by 4:00 PM. By nightfall, a violent autumn tempest raged over Chicago, battering the estate with driving rain and lightning strikes that lit up the dark sky like artillery flashes.
At 11:30 PM, exactly as I had overheard, every light in the mansion suddenly went dark.
The low hum of the generator died instantly, leaving the vast estate plunged into pitch-black shadow.
Inside the hidden panic room behind the library's heavy oak panels, I sat on a leather sofa, clutching Ellie against my chest. The room was illuminated by a single battery-powered emergency lantern.
"Mommy," Ellie whispered, her tiny voice shaking as thunder crashed outside. "Where is Atlas?"
My stomach twisted into a painful knot.
Damen had insisted on keeping Atlas with him in the main hall. He wanted the traitors to believe the house was unprepared.
"He's with Mr. Romano, sweetie," I murmured, kissing her forehead while praying silently for both of them. "They're guarding the house."
Outside the heavy steel doors of the panic room, the silent estate erupted into chaos.
Muffled gunshots echoed down the stone corridors, followed by the sharp crunch of breaking glass and the sound of heavy boots breaching the main foyer. Through the thick walls, I could hear shouting, curses, and the unmistakable sound of a battle unfolding.
In the grand foyer, Nicholas stood near the shattered stained-glass entrance, holding a suppressed pistol, his face illuminated by flashes of lightning through the open doors. Ten of Lucian Vane’s elite mercenaries poured through the threshold, weapons raised.
"He's in the second-floor study!" Nicholas shouted over the roar of the wind. "Kill him fast before Anthony reorganizes the perimeter guards!"
Suddenly, a terrifying roar shattered the darkness.
From the dark top of the grand staircase, a gray-black shadow descended like a demon unleashed from hell.
Atlas struck the first mercenary at full speed, hitting the man's chest with all 130 pounds of muscle, snapping his collarbone before the guard could even raise his weapon. The man let out a blood-curdling scream as Atlas dragged him across the marble floor.
"Shoot it! Shoot the dog!" Nicholas shrieked, firing his pistol wildly into the dark.
A bullet caught Atlas across his left shoulder—right along his old pale scar. The dog let out a sharp Yip, but instead of retreating, the pain only fueled his rage. He turned his glowing yellow eyes directly onto Nicholas.
"Nicholas!" a voice boomed from the shadows above.
Damen Romano walked out onto the second-floor landing, holding a heavy tactical shotgun in one hand. Flanking him were Anthony and six of his most loyal operators, who opened fire with terrifying precision.
Within ninety seconds, seven of Vane's mercenaries were dead on the foyer floor. The remaining three threw down their weapons, raising their hands in surrender.
Nicholas dropped his gun, stumbling backward against the broken front door, his arms bleeding from flying glass.
"Damen!" Nicholas sobbed, dropping to his knees on the wet marble. "Damen, please! Vane forced me! He threatened to ruin the family business! I had no choice!"
Damen walked down the grand staircase slowly, his heavy boots crunching on the glass. He didn't look angry; his face was a mask of absolute, devastating disappointment.
Atlas stood over Nicholas, his teeth inches from Nicholas's throat, blood dripping from the graze on his shoulder, waiting for the command.
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Damen stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking down at his younger brother.
"You brought mercenaries into our father's house," Damen said, his voice dangerously low. "You put a innocent child and her mother in danger. You were my brother, Nicholas... but you are nothing to me now."
