Chapter 4 - The Drive to the Coast
The black bulletproof Mercedes sped through the midnight rain, its headlights cutting through the dense coastal fog like twin blades. In the passenger seat, I stared out at the dark silhouette of the Atlantic crashing against the jagged cliffs of the North Shore.
Vincent’s estate—the "Cliffs Edge" mansion—was a sprawling fortress of reinforced concrete and tinted glass, perched dangerously close to the rocky shoreline. It was heavily fortified, patrolled by private security mercenaries he had hired out of Eastern Europe.
"Sir, we have twenty-four men positioned around the perimeter," Marcus reported from the back seat, tapping away at a tactical tablet. "Thermal imaging shows at least twelve guards inside the main hall, four patrolling the west wing, and two stationed directly outside the master suite on the third floor where the child is reportedly being kept."
"We don't negotiate," I said quietly, keeping my gaze fixed on the road ahead. "We don't take prisoners until I have my daughter in my arms. If anyone draws a weapon, put them down."
"Understood, Boss."
The car swung off the main coastal highway, slipping down an unmarked gravel road that wound through dense pine trees. We killed the headlights fifty yards from the iron gates of Vincent’s estate.
The rain poured down harder now, washing over the windshield in sheets.
"Marcus, take the back service entrance with the second team. Cut the power grid the second you're in position," I instructed, pulling black tactical gloves over my hands. "I’ll take the front gates. Vincent wants to play god with my family? I'm going to show him what a real monster looks like."
I stepped out into the freezing rain, the cold water soaking through my tailored suit within seconds. But I didn't feel the chill. Adrenaline and a cold, burning fury had completely numbed my nerves.
As I approached the massive wrought-iron gates, the security camera above the pillar swiveled down, tracking my movement. A harsh speaker crackled to life.
“Halt! Private property. State your—Good God, Julian?”
Vincent’s voice echoed through the intercom, laced with sudden, palpable panic.
May you like
I didn't answer. I pulled a suppressed handgun from my holster and fired three precise rounds directly into the optical lens of the security camera. The lens shattered in a shower of sparks, plunging the gate into darkness.
With a heavy metallic groan, the electronic locks disengaged as Marcus cut the power grid from the rear. The iron gates swung open.
