Chapter 16 - The Siege on 81st
The storm raged on through the night, morphing into a violent nor'easter that battered the limestone pillars of the 81st Street estate. Inside the subterranean garage, Marco and his tactical team were unloading duffel bags of encrypted comms, assault rifles, and heavy body armor when the estate's primary power grid suddenly failed with a violent electrical pop.
The brilliant, warm illumination of the mansion plunged instantly into emergency red backup lighting.
In the west wing, Vera sat on the edge of a massive velvet-upholstered bed, staring out the high, reinforced glass windows at the howling wind. The terrier mix—now named Patch by the estate's private vet—was curled up soundly in a plush dog bed beside her, sleeping off his sedatives.
Click.
The lock on her heavy oak bedroom door turned with a sharp, mechanical precision.
Vance didn't knock. He pushed the door open, dressed in a dark tactical turtleneck and a heavy shoulder holster, holding a suppressed automatic pistol in his right hand.
"Get away from the windows," Enzo commanded, his voice a low, urgent hiss.
May you like
"What's happening?" Vera asked, her heart leaping into her throat.
"Cross didn't wait for midnight," Enzo said, moving swiftly across the room to check the security feeds on a concealed wall panel. "He bypassed the perimeter sensors through the storm drains. They're inside the courtyard."
