Chapter 7 - The Battle for the EstateChaos erupted across the sprawling grounds of the Ashford estate as the blinding lights of the security grid swept frantically across the rain-slicked lawns.
Inside the central command bunker, monitors flickered with thermal imaging feeds showing half a dozen heavily armed mercenaries in tactical gear pushing past the burning wreckage of the front security gate.
“They’ve breached the outer courtyard!” Marco barked into the comms headset, firing a rapid succession of rounds from his rifle through a reinforced security slit. “Felix, secure the perimeter hallway! Don't let them near the East Wing!”
Dominic didn't stay in the command room. He had already deposited Elena in the estate’s subterranean safe room—a heavily reinforced vault beneath the main study equipped with independent air filtration and encrypted communications.
“Stay inside,” Dominic told her, his hand resting briefly on her shoulder, his dark eyes burning with intense focus. “If I don't come back down in thirty minutes, use the secondary console to contact the federal marshal on this secure channel.”
Elena grabbed his sleeve before he could turn away, her fingers tightening around his dark fabric.
“Don't be a hero, Dominic,” she whispered, fear flashing across her eyes. “There are too many of them.”
Dominic offered a grim, confident smile, leaning down slightly so his voice was meant for her alone.
“I’m not a hero, Elena,” he murmured. “I’m a survivor. And nobody touches what’s mine.”
Before she could answer, he turned on his heel and strode out of the vault, sealing the heavy steel door behind him with a resounding clunk.
Upstairs in the main corridor of the East Wing, the sound of gunfire echoed like rolling thunder. Shattered glass rained down from the tall windows as automatic weapon fire chewed through the antique mahogany paneling.
Felix and two of his guards held the main staircase, returning heavy suppressing fire down into the grand foyer where three of Caldwell’s mercenaries were attempting to force their way upward.
“They’re using thermal breaching charges!” Felix shouted over the deafening roar of gunfire, ducking as a heavy concussive blast blew the double doors off their hinges at the end of the hall.
Through smoke and blinding white flashbangs, figures in black tactical gear surged into the hallway.
Then, step by measured step, Dominic stepped out from the shadows of the secondary gallery, his Sig Sauer raised with lethal precision.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three shots. Three precise center-mass drops. The mercenaries hit the Persian rug, motionless.
Dominic lowered the smoking barrel, stepping over the fallen bodies as he moved toward the grand staircase. His phone vibrated in his tactical vest.
He flipped it open, keeping his weapon raised.
“Report,” Dominic snapped.
“Boss, we’ve got a second team attempting to hit the East Wing sub-level vent shaft!” Silas’s voice crackled through the secure earpiece over the sound of screaming sirens. “They’re trying to reach the vault!”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
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Caldwell wasn't just trying to kill him—he was trying to extract Elena and the ledger before federal authorities arrived.
“Hold the line,” Dominic commanded coldly, turning toward the private elevator shaft that led straight down to the subterranean safe room. “I’m heading down.”
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