Chapter 6 - A Trap at the Harbor
While the Syndicate fell back under Adrian’s absolute control, Colin’s remaining loyalists—a rogue squad of forty mercenaries paid by the Vance cartel—refused to surrender.
At 4:00 a.m., Silas received an emergency alert on his encrypted radio.
A rogue convoy of armed trucks had broken through the perimeter gates of the Westchester estate before Adrian’s main force could arrive.
Inside the estate’s grand library, Grace stood near the reinforced steel panic room, holding Clara tightly against her chest, while Lucy held her mother’s hand.
Outside, the sound of automatic rifle fire echoed across the manicured lawns.
“Grace!” Silas shouted over the intercom. “They have heavy weapons! Get inside the vault now!”
Before Grace could pull the heavy steel vault door shut, the library doors exploded inward.
Four masked mercenaries swept into the room with assault rifles leveled.
“Grab the kid!” the lead hitman shouted. “Vance’s second-in-command offered five million dollars for the baby’s body! Kill the maid!”
Grace didn't panic. She didn't scream.
She reached into her heavy coat, pulled out Adrian’s secondary .45 caliber handgun—which he had taught her to use during her years as a high-society security guard before she became Eleanor’s housekeeper—and pulled the trigger three times with lethal accuracy.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The lead hitman dropped to the rug. The second gunman staggered back, clutching his shoulder in utter shock.
“She’s armed!” the third man yelled, diving behind an oak desk.
Before they could return fire, a roar like a thunderclap echoed through the shattered library windows.
A massive black armored vehicle smashed straight through the floor-to-ceiling glass, crushing two mercenaries beneath its reinforced tires.
The driver’s side door flew open.
Adrian Whitmore stepped out into the room like a god of war.
He held a tactical shotgun in his left hand and a suppressed pistol in his right. Within five seconds, the remaining mercenaries were eliminated with terrifying precision.
The room went silent, save for the crackle of falling glass and the hum of the armored truck’s engine.
Adrian dropped his weapons, walking swiftly across the ruined floor toward Grace.
Grace stood near the vault door, her hands shaking slightly as she lowered the empty handgun. Clara was fast asleep in her arm, completely unbothered by the noise, while Lucy looked up at Adrian with wide, admiring eyes.
Adrian reached out, wrapping his massive arms around Grace, Clara, and Lucy all at once, pulling them tightly against his chest.
“Are you hurt?” Adrian asked, his voice shaking with a rare, desperate emotion.
“We’re okay,” Grace whispered, resting her forehead against his chest, feeling the wild, furious beat of his heart. “I told you... I promised Eleanor I would protect her.”
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Adrian kissed Grace’s hair, then kissed his sleeping daughter’s cheek, before picking up little Lucy and resting her safely on his hip.
“The Vance cartel is dead,” Adrian declared softly into the quiet room. “Colin and Julian are gone. No one will ever threaten this house again.”
