Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the Machine
The mansion was pitch black, save for the pale moonlight streaming through the French doors of the grand foyer.
I moved through the shadows like a ghost, keeping low, my senses heightened to every creak of the floorboards. Victor thought he had me trapped in a tomb. He thought the game was over.
He didn't know about the manual circuit breaker located in the butler’s pantry—the one installed by the original 1928 tycoon who didn't trust modern electrical grids.
I sprinted down the service corridor, reached the metal breaker box, and threw the master lever downward with a heavy thud.
Clack.
Instantly, every light in the mansion died. The low, rhythmic hum of the smart-home automation system cut out. And down in the cellar beneath the kitchen, the red security light on Luca’s cage blinked off.
A muffled electronic click echoed from the basement—the magnetic lock releasing its grip.
Good. Luca and Sofia were free to wait for Marcus.
Now, it was my turn to hunt.
I slipped out through the side kitchen door into the cool, damp night air of the courtyard. The manicured lawns stretched out toward the dark, glass-like surface of Lake Michigan, framed by towering weeping willows.
Two of Victor’s men stood smoking near the garage, their silhouettes clearly visible against the moonlight. They wore dark tactical gear and carried suppressed submachine guns.
“Hey, did the power just go out?” one of them muttered, tossing his cigarette into the bushes.
“Check the main box by the pool,” the other replied, turning toward the path.
They didn't take three steps.
I moved out from the shadow of the brick archway, closing the distance with silent, deadly speed. Before the first man could raise his weapon, I struck the base of his skull with the heavy steel grip of my pistol. He dropped silently onto the grass like a sack of grain.
The second man whipped around, but my barrel was already leveled at his chest.
“Drop it,” I whispered, the sound colder than the autumn wind.
He froze, his fingers loosening around his weapon. “Mr. Moretti... Victor said you were— founders—”
“Victor lied,” I cut him off, driving the butt of my gun into his jaw. He collapsed unconscious onto the turf.
I stripped his radio earpiece, shoving it into my ear, and dragged both men into the dense landscaping.
Static hissed in my ear. Then Victor’s voice came across the encrypted channel, calm, smooth, and laced with sickening arrogance.
“Unit Two, report. Power failure at the main house. Status?”
I pressed the transmit button on the side of the radio, mimicking the low rumble of the guard I had just incapacitated.
“All clear, boss. Just a tripped breaker. We’re resetting it now.”
“Good,” Victor replied over the static. “Keep your eyes on the boathouse. I’m wrapping things up with our little houseguest. Once she stops screaming, dump her in the deep channel.”
My grip on my pistol tightened so hard my knuckles turned white.
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“Copy that, boss. Be there in two minutes.”
I broke into a silent, blistering run down the winding stone path toward the lake, leaving the grand mansion behind me as the first gray streaks of dawn began to bleed across the eastern horizon.
