Chapter 6 - The Siege of Forty-TwoThe private elevator chime didn’t sound like a polite arrival anymore; it sounded like a death knell.
Ding.
Before the echo could fade, the brushed-steel doors erupted inward in a screech of twisted metal and flying shrapnel. A concussive flash-bang grenade hurled into the penthouse hurled a blinding wall of white light and a deafening roar through the office.
“Get down!” Sebastian roared, moving with terrifying speed.
He lunged across the coffee table, slamming Nina to the floor beneath the heavy mahogany desk just as a volley of automatic gunfire chewed through the panoramic windows, shattering thousands of dollars of glass into a shimmering rainstorm of diamond shards.
Nina’s ears rang with a high-pitched whine. Glass dust filled the air, smelling of ozone and cordite.
“Elena!” Sebastian shouted into his tactical comms, drawing a sleek, suppressed Sig Sauer from his shoulder holster with one fluid motion. “Status!”
“They’ve jammed the stairwells!” Elena’s voice screamed over the static, punctuated by the distinct pop of return fire. “It’s a hit squad sent by the Syndicate! They want the files, and they want you dead!”
Footsteps thundered across the shattered glass outside the office doors. Heavy boots. Professional cadence. Mercenaries.
Cerberus didn’t cower. The seventy-pound pit bull rose from the floor, his fur bristling, a terrifying, guttural snarl tearing from his throat that vibrated right through the floorboards.
“Stay here,” Sebastian ordered Nina, his dark eyes locking onto hers with absolute, unyielding intensity. “If I don’t come back out that door, take the flash drive, take the dog, and run straight to the basement garage. Use my car. The keys are in the ignition.”
“Are you insane? I’m not leaving you here!” Nina yelled over the sound of a heavy explosive charge being slapped against the outer oak doors.
“That’s an order, Nina!” Sebastian barked, before pivoting away and rolling into a tactical crouch near the shattered remains of the doorway.
BOOM.
The heavy oak double doors blew inward in a cloud of splinters and black smoke. Three heavily armored men in tactical gear poured through the threshold, assault rifles raised.
What happened next defied human physics.
Before the mercenaries could level their sights, Cerberus launched himself like a furry missile across the room. He slammed directly into the chest of the lead gunman, knocking the two-hundred-pound operative flat onto his back with the force of a speeding truck.
Simultaneously, Sebastian opened fire—two crisp, suppressed cracks echoing over the din, neutralizing the second and third attackers with chilling precision.
Glass, blood, and smoke filled the luxury office.
Nina pressed her back against the underside of the mahogany desk, her hands clamped over her ears, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
“Clear!” Sebastian’s voice rang out, sharp and breathless.
Nina scrambled out from under the desk, her eyes wide with shock. The penthouse looked like a war zone. Two men in tactical gear were unconscious near the doorway, and Cerberus was standing proudly over the third, his massive paw planted firmly on the man’s chest, panting heavily.
Sebastian stood near the ruined doorway, his tuxedo jacket ruined, a shallow graze bleeding darkly across his left shoulder. He holstered his weapon and turned his gaze slowly toward Nina.
May you like
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice completely steady, belying the chaos around them.
“I’m… I’m fine,” Nina stammered, checking herself over. Then her eyes widened as she looked past him. “Sebastian… behind you!”
