Carmine Vale’s laughter was too loud, too brittle, echoing against the marble pillars of the cathedral like shattering glass.

The reinforced glass of the penthouse living room shattered inward in a blinding wave of dust and shrapnel. Edmund hit the floor instantly, dragging Vivien down with him behind the heavy marble pillar as a volley of automatic gunfire chewed through the wall where they had been standing seconds before.

"Perimeter breach!" Tommy’s voice crackled over the secure comms earpiece. "Assailants rappelling down the exterior glass from the roof!"

"How many?" Edmund shouted over the deafening rattle of gunfire.

"At least a dozen! Professional gear, thermal optics. They bypassed the lower security entirely!"

Vivien scrambled to her feet, ignoring the glass fragments tearing at the hem of her silk robe, and sprinted toward the wall safe behind the mahogany desk. She spun the combination dial with lightning speed, punching the sequence: 4-1-4-8-2.

The heavy steel door swung open. Inside weren't just emergency cash reserves—it was a rack of modified submachine guns and tactical gear.

She grabbed two suppressed pistols, tossed one across the room toward Edmund, and racked the slide of her own weapon with ruthless efficiency.

"You really do come with survival instincts," Edmund said, catching the pistol out of mid-air and rolling smoothly onto one knee.

"I told you," she smiled, her dark eyes gleaming with adrenaline and fury. "I hate losing investments."

The double doors of the penthouse burst open. Two black-clad operatives in tactical gear stepped through the threshold, weapons raised.

Before they could acquire targets, two silenced cracks echoed through the room. Both operatives dropped instantly, slumping against the doorframe like broken dolls.

From the hallway, more footsteps echoed—fast, disciplined, lethal.