Chapter 6 - THE SIEGE OF BLACKWOOD ESTATE"Stay here," Ronan commanded, his voice dropping into the cold, ruthless tone of a mob boss who had survived a dozen assassination attempts. He drew a suppressed automatic pistol from a concealed holster beneath his vest with terrifying speed.
"Mr. Blackwood, no," Ivy said, standing up despite the pain in her shoulder. "The breach isn't a random break-in. They're hitting the communications vault. That's where the grandfather's physical logs and the master drive are kept."
Ronan stared at her, realizing with a jolt that she knew the estate's security architecture just as well as he did—if not better.
"How do you know that?" Ronan demanded.
"Because I helped your grandfather design the vault's dual-verification protocol," Ivy said, her voice hard as steel. She walked over to the medical desk, picked up a heavy titanium scalpel tray, and slipped a compact, heavy-duty service key from her apron pocket into the inner pocket of her velvet blazer. "And the override code requires both a Blackwood biometric and my clearance thumbprint."
Ronan didn't waste time asking questions. He grabbed her uninjured arm, pulling her close behind him as they moved swiftly out into the red-lit corridors.
Gunshots echoed from the west wing—sharp, rhythmic cracks of suppressed submachine guns tearing through antique wood and glass.
"Malcolm!" Ronan shouted into his lapel comms as they sprinted down the corridor. "Report!"
Static hissed through the earpiece, followed by Malcolm’s strained, breathless voice: "Mr. Blackwood—they came through the old drainage tunnels... Victor Vance's men... they bypassed the main cameras—"
The comms cut out with a violent burst of electronic feedback.
Ronan shoved Ivy behind a massive stone pillar just as a hail of bullets chewed up the wall where they had been standing a second before. Shrapnel and plaster rained down over them.
"Victor," Ronan snarled, recognition flashing in his eyes. "My cousin broke out of federal custody."
"He didn't just break out," Ivy said, her breathing even, her mind calculating angles and exits even under fire. "He's here for the master keys. If he gets them, he controls the entire Grayhaven underground network and your legitimate corporate assets in one stroke."
Three masked operatives in black tactical gear rounded the corner fifty feet away, weapons raised, sweeping the hallway.
Ronan moved with lethal efficiency. In three fluid motions, he stepped out from behind the pillar, fired twice, and two of the operatives dropped instantly. The third ducked back behind the corner, returning fire wildly.
"Ivy," Ronan said, his body shielding hers completely. "Can you reach the panic room behind the library?"
"Yes," she said, her eyes locked on his. "Through the service lift."
"Go."
"Not without you," she replied fiercely, her strong hands gripping his forearm. "Ronan, listen to me. Victor wants the master keys, but he also wants you dead. If we split up, he wins. We go together, or not at all."
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Ronan looked down at her—really looked at her—not as a maid, not as an employee, but as the only partner who had ever stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him in the fire.
A rare, fierce grin crossed Ronan’s face. "Then let's show my cousin what happens when he steps onto Blackwood ground."
