Chapter 3 - THE WOLF AT THE DOOR"How many?" I asked, the adrenaline instantly clearing the fog from my brain. Years of tactical training under my father’s brutal regime kicked in, pushing aside the shock of the revelation.
"At least two tactical units," Marcus said, walking briskly toward the reinforced steel door at the back of the office. "Ex-military contractors. Men your father bought and paid for, but men who now realize that without Vincent to keep them on a short leash, they can carve up the East Coast ports for themselves. They know Lily’s here. They tracked your car from the cemetery district."
Nora’s face went pale as sheet. She ran toward the internal hallway. "The kids! There are twelve other children sleeping in the west wing—"
"They aren't here for the other kids," I said, cutting her off with absolute coldness. "They’re here to tie up the only loose end that can legally challenge the probate court for my father’s multi-billion-dollar estate. Lily owns sixty percent of Calder Shipping & Logistics through a trust Vincent set up two days before he died."
Marcus whistled softly. "Old man went out swinging, didn't he? He knew he was dying of the pancreatic cancer, so he signed over the controlling shares to the kid, knowing you'd find it."
"He used us as bait," I muttered, the bitterness tasting like ash on my tongue. Vincent Calder had manipulated us from beyond the grave—forcing me to choose between protecting a niece I’d met twenty-four hours ago and reclaiming an empire built on blood.
"Bait or not, we need to move," Marcus snapped, pulling a heavy tactical vest from a wall locker and tossing it to me. "The front gates just went down. They're breaching."
Crash!
The heavy oak front door of Harbor House splintered inward under the impact of a hydraulic ram. Shouts echoed down the corridor, followed by the terrifying, distinct metallic clatter of assault rifles being unslung.
"Nora, get the kids into the storm cellar beneath the pantry now!" I ordered, chambering a round into my Sig.
"I'm not leaving you—"
"Nora, move!" Marcus roared, grabbing her by the shoulder and shoving her toward the back corridor. "If they find the girl, nobody walks out of this building alive!"
The heavy footsteps were moving fast down the main hallway. Heavy boots on linoleum. The sound of professional killers sweeping a target.
I checked my magazine. Fourteen rounds of hollow-points. Plus two spare mags in my belt.
"Marcus," I said quietly as we crouched on either side of the office doorway. "When I was ten, my father locked me in a basement for three days with no food to teach me how to survive weakness."
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Marcus glanced at me sideways, a grim smile touching his scarred lips. "And what did you learn?"
"I learned that monsters don't deserve to inherit the earth."
