Chapter 5 - The Siege at DawnThe backup generator kicked in with a low, throbbing rumble, restoring power to the monitors just as the final file downloaded successfully onto an encrypted flash drive.
I yanked the USB drive out of the port and held it up like a holy relic.
"Got it," I breathed out, my chest heaving.
Luca took the drive from my hand with terrifying calmness and slid it into his pocket. "Good. Because our guests have arrived early."
On the security monitors by the door, the exterior cameras flickered to life. Three matte-black tactical vans had just crashed right through the wrought-iron front gates of the estate, scattering armed guards like bowling pins. Men in heavy tactical gear, wearing black balaclavas and carrying suppressed assault rifles, poured out of the vehicles like ants.
On one of the lead enforcer's necks, clearly visible through the night-vision camera feed, was a vivid, sprawling green dragon tattoo.
The Triad. They hadn't wasted a single second.
"Julian," Luca said, his voice dropping an octave as he turned to look me dead in the eye. "Take your sister, grab the go-bag in the safe room behind the painting, and head down the drainage tunnel beneath the wine cellar. Mateo will lead you out to the safehouse three miles away."
I froze, clutching the edge of the desk. "What about you? There's a small army out there!"
A cold, terrifyingly confident smirk spread across Luca’s face. He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a heavy, matte-black Sig Sauer pistol, racking the slide with a crisp, lethal clack.
"This is my house, Julian," Luca said softly. "Nobody breaks into my home and walks out alive. Now move!"
Before I could argue, Mateo grabbed my shoulder and practically hauled me out of the chair. We sprinted up the spiral staircase, rushing past the grand foyer where the sound of heavy boots echoing against marble floorboards told us the front doors had just been blown off their hinges.
Bang! Bang!
Gunfire erupted from the main hallway. Glass shattered. Shouts in Cantonese and English echoed through the opulent halls.
We burst into Sofia’s bedroom. My little sister was awake, sitting bolt upright in bed, her eyes wide with terror as the concussive thud of automatic gunfire shook the walls.
"Julian! What's happening?!" she cried, bursting into tears as I threw open the secret wall panel behind the oil painting.
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"We're leaving," I said, my voice shaking as I grabbed the heavy canvas duffel bag filled with cash, passports, and a backup pistol. "Grab my hand, Sofia. Don't look back, don't stop running, no matter what you hear."
We dove into the dark, damp concrete tunnel just as the bedroom door handle began to rattle violently.
