Chapter 4 - The Breach
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
The sound of gunfire downstairs was not chaotic—it was precise, deliberate, and devastating.
The two mercenaries in the bedroom immediately raised their weapons, turning toward the hallway.
“What the hell was that?” Wells yelled, dropping his satellite phone. “The police?”
“That’s not police tactics,” one of the contractors growled, dropping into a defensive crouch near the door frame. “That’s heavy infantry!”
Before the mercenary could fire another word, the drywall behind him exploded outward.
A hail of high-caliber rounds tore through the plaster, ripping into the two contractors before they could even pull their triggers. Both men collapsed onto the hardwood floor in a spray of blood.
Cassandra shrieked, dropping the syringe as she scrambled backward into the corner, using the bed as cover.
Wells dropped to his knees, covering his head as wood splinters and drywall dust rained down upon the room.
Through the smoke and dust, a giant silhouette stepped through the shattered doorway.
It was Viktor, clad in full black body armor, his suppressed rifle raised. Behind him came three more heavily armed men, clearing the corners with lethal speed.
And then stepped Marcus Mercer.
He wore no armor. Just his tailored charcoal suit, now stained with rain and gunsmoke. His face was set in a stone mask of terrifying fury, his eyes burning with an ancient, dark promise.
In his right hand, he held a dark handgun, pointed straight at the floor.
The room fell dead silent, save for the crackle of fire downstairs and the heavy breathing of the survivors.
“M-Marcus?” Wells stammered, his eyes bulging in absolute horror. “How… how are you here? You were in London!”
Marcus didn't look at Wells. His eyes swept the room until they landed on the small, shivering figure kneeling beside the closet.
Lily looked up through her tears, her small lip trembling.
“Daddy?” she whispered softly.
The stone mask on Marcus’s face broke for a fraction of a second. He lowered his weapon, stepped across the blood-slicked floor, and dropped to both knees before his daughter.
He pulled her into his arms, wrapping his heavy coat around her small frame, pressing her face into his chest.
“I’m here, baby,” Marcus whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Lily squeezed him with all the strength left in her small body, sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder. “I stayed in the closet… like you told me…”
“I know,” Marcus said gently, kissing the top of her head. “You were so brave. You did so good.”
He looked up. The gentleness vanished instantly, replaced by a coldness that made the temperature in the room drop twenty degrees.
Cassandra was crawling toward the balcony door, trying to sneak away while Marcus was distracted.
CLICK.
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Marcus stood up, raising his handgun, aiming it directly at the back of her head.
“Move again,” Marcus said, “and you won't live to see the sunrise.”
