Chapter 8 - The Killing Floor of the EstateThe heavy oak doors of the eastern conservatory blew inward with a deafening crash as a breaching charge tore the locks apart. Shards of antique stained glass rained down across the marble floor like frozen tears.
Three tactical operatives in matte-black stealth gear poured through the opening, their assault rifles raised, night-vision goggles scanning the darkened room.
"Clear," the lead operative whispered into his comms.
They crept silently across the conservatory toward the grand staircase. The mansion was dead silent, save for the rhythmic dripping of water from the broken stained glass where the rain leaked inside.
Click.
The sound of a single rifle hammer locking back echoed sharply from the top of the grand staircase.
The lead operative snapped his rifle upward—
Bang. Bang.
Two suppressed rounds punched through the darkness with surgical precision. The lead operative dropped instantly, a clean hole through his ceramic chest plate, while the second took a round to the shoulder and crashed into a marble pillar.
The third operative raised his weapon to blind-fire toward the landing, but before he could squeeze the trigger, a dark shadow dropped from the vaulted ceiling directly onto his back.
Ethan Cole slammed the mercenary down onto the hardwood floor with bone-crushing force, wrenching the assault rifle from his hands and driving the butt of the weapon into the man's helmet until his visor cracked and he went limp.
Ethan stood up slowly, breathing heavily, wiping a smear of dust and sweat from his forehead. He didn't blink. He didn't hesitate. He stepped over the unconscious mercenary and moved toward the main corridor.
His earpiece crackled to life.
"Ethan! Status!" Marcus’s voice hissed from the panic room.
"Three down in the conservatory," Ethan reported, keeping his carbine raised as he scanned the shadows. "Where are the others?"
"Thermal feeds show the remaining three have bypassed the lower levels," Marcus said rapidly. "They’re taking the service elevator directly to the third floor. They’re heading straight for the nursery!"
Ethan’s blood ran cold.
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The third floor.
He turned and broke into a dead sprint down the long, carpeted hallway, his boots pounding against the floor like thunder. If Thorne’s men reached the nursery before he did, Rosa and Sofia would have nowhere to run.
