Chapter 6 - THE BEAST UNLEASHEDPhantom hit Viktor like a falling boulder.
The 130-pound Cane Corso’s jaws locked onto the thick ceramic plating of Viktor’s tactical vest with a force that sounded like cracking bone. Viktor screamed in shock and pain, stumbling backward and losing control of the heavy machine gun, which sent a wild spray of bullets harmlessly into the high vaulted ceiling.
"Get this damn animal off me!" Viktor roared, dropping his weapon and desperately trying to reach for the combat knife strapped to his thigh.
Holden didn't hesitate. He sprang out from behind the mahogany pillar, crossed the open marble floor in three long strides, and slammed the heavy butt of his Sig Sauer directly into the side of Viktor’s helmet.
The impact echoed like a sledgehammer against steel. Viktor’s eyes rolled back, his massive frame trembling once before collapsing heavily onto the shattered marble floor. Phantom stood over him, one massive paw planted squarely on the enforcer’s chest, baring gleaming teeth inches from Viktor’s throat.
"Clear," Holden breathed, his chest heaving as he kept his gun leveled at Viktor's head just in case.
Elena walked up beside him, her submachine gun still raised as she scanned the smoky foyer for more targets. The rest of the syndicate enforcers who had swarmed through the broken doors were either retreating back into the courtyard or pinned down by Marcus's defensive fire.
"That bought us a few minutes," Elena said, her voice dangerously calm despite the chaos surrounding them. "But Viktor was just the advance wave. The true head of the syndicate board is still outside in the command van—and he brought enough explosives to level this entire mountain."
Holden looked down at Viktor, then over at Elena. The ten years of bitterness, lies, and betrayal melted away under the heat of a shared, burning purpose. They were once a lethal team, before ambition and deceit tore them apart. Now, standing among the wreckage of their empire, they had only one choice left.
"Who’s running the board now?" Holden asked quietly.
"Your trusted advisor," Elena replied, her lips tightening into a hard line. "Arthur Vance. Silas and Viktor’s uncle. He was the architect of the frame-job a decade ago, and he’s the one who ordered the hit tonight."
Holden’s eyes hardened into chips of obsidian. Arthur Vance—the quiet, elderly statesman of the syndicate who sat on every board meeting, advising Holden on honor and loyalty while systematically cutting the throat of the Cross family behind closed doors.
"Marcus!" Holden barked into his comms.
"Yeah, Boss?" Marcus’s voice crackled back over the static.
"Secure the foyer. Keep Vesper and Vance safe in the basement bunker. Elena and I are going out to pay a visit to Arthur."
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"Boss, that's suicide! The entire courtyard is swarming with syndicate hit squads!"
"Let them swarm," Holden said, racking the slide of his pistol with a lethal, metallic snap. "Tonight, the house of Cross is cleaning house."
