Chapter 5 - The Siege of the Gold Coast
The heavy hum of the mansion's central air conditioning died instantly. The only light remaining came from the pale, ambient glow of the city streetlights bleeding through the rain-slicked windows.
Down the hallway, the muted, rhythmic thump-thump-thump of heavy tactical boots began to echo against the marble floors.
"Mister Big House?" Lily’s voice rose from the darkness, small and frightened. "The lights went away."
"Stay where you are, Lily," I commanded, my voice dropping into a tone that was absolute, deadly steel.
In a fraction of a second, the lonely man who had let a child paint his face vanished. In his place stood the Iron King of Chicago.
I pulled my custom, suppressed 9mm pistol from my shoulder holster, the dark metal glinting faintly in the shadows. I stepped toward Elena, grabbing her shoulder firmly and shoving her down behind the heavy mahogany desk.
"Stay down. Cover her," I ordered Elena.
"Adrian!" a voice boomed through the estate's main intercom system—a harsh, gravelly voice amplified by a portable military transceiver.
Julian Vance.
"I know you're in there, Adrian!" Vance's voice echoed through the dark corridors. "And I know you have the Morales girl and her bastard brat! Give me the drive, Adrian! Hand over the widow and the child, and we walk away! You don't need to die for a housekeeper!"
In the darkness of the library, I pulled my pocket radio from my belt and clicked the channel to Marcus’s private tactical frequency.
"Marcus. Report," I whispered into the mic.
"Boss!" Marcus’s voice came through, strained against the heavy sound of silenced gunfire echoing in the background. "They cut the main power grid and blew the rear gate! We've got twelve hostiles inside the courtyard! Heavy armor, night vision! We're engaging them in the grand foyer!"
"Keep them out of the east wing," I commanded coldly. "I'm clearing the library corridor myself."
I clicked off the radio, turned back to the dark desk, and looked down at Elena and Lily.
Lily was curling into her mother's chest, her eyes wide with terror, clutching Buttons tightly to her small heart. She looked up at me through the shadows, seeing the heavy black gun in my hand, seeing the cold, terrifying killer that the rest of the world knew.
For a second, I thought she would scream. I thought the illusion was broken—that she would finally realize I was a monster.
Instead, Lily reached out her tiny hand and touched the edge of my sleeve.
"Mister Big House..." she whimpered, her voice trembling. "Don't let the dark cloud take Buttons."
I looked down at the tiny girl. The red heart she had painted on my cheek felt warm against my skin.
"No one is taking Buttons, Lily," I whispered, kneeling down and kissing the top of her dark curls. "And no one is hurting you."
I stood up, racking the slide of my pistol with a sharp, lethal CLACK.
I opened the heavy library doors and stepped out into the dark hallway.
Three men in black tactical gear and night-vision goggles were moving down the corridor, their suppressed assault rifles raised, sweeping the doors.
They didn't see me until it was too late.
I moved with a lethal, fluid grace honed by years of violence.
Pfft. Pfft.
Two shots snapped through the quiet hall. The lead mercenary collapsed instantly, his rifle clattering against the hardwood floor. Before the second man could react, I closed the distance, grabbing his rifle barrel, twisting it violently to disarm him, and driving my heavy elbow straight into his throat. He went down with a strangled gasp.
The third mercenary raised his weapon, but a heavy shadow burst from the side doorway—Marcus.
Marcus tackled the third man into the wall, driving a combat knife beneath his vest with brutal, military precision.
The hallway went dead silent once more, save for the heavy breathing of my enforcer.
"Perimeter in the foyer is secure, Boss," Marcus panted, wiping blood from his cheek. "We took down seven of them. Vance is outside in his armored sedan, waiting for his breach team to report."
I looked down at the fallen mercenaries, then at the heavy glass windows at the end of the hall overlooking the front driveway.
Parked near the iron gates, idling in the downpour, was a black, bulletproof Cadillac Escalade. Through the tinted glass, illuminated by the dashboard lights, I could see the silhouette of Julian Vance holding a satellite phone.
He was the man who had ordered the bomb that killed my sister Sofia five years ago.
He was the man who had murdered Elena’s husband.
And he was the man who had sent armed killers into my home to terrify a three-year-old child.
"Marcus," I said, my voice dropping into a register of sheer, unadulterated hellfire.
May you like
"Boss?"
"Bring up the heavy armor from the basement," I ordered, stepping over the fallen bodies as I walked toward the front entrance. "We're not defending tonight. We're hunting."
