Chapter 3 - THE GLASS HOUSEThe winter gale howled against the curved glass panes of the conservatory like a pack of starving wolves, but inside, the air was thick with the humid, tropical scent of orchids and damp earth.
Through the security feed on my wrist tablet, I watched the two mercenaries finish rigging the linear breaching charge along the apex of the glass roof. The red tracking light of the detonator blinked rhythmically in the gloom.
"Planting is set, Boss," one of them rasped into his comms. "Blow the skylight, drop straight down into the main hallway, and sweep the west wing."
"Do it quietly," Marcus’s voice crackled back from outside. "I don't want the children traumatized any more than necessary. They need to look healthy when the insurance payout clears. Actuary tables are tricky if there are visible bullet wounds."
Hearing those words, a dark, freezing wave of fury surged through my veins. The man wasn't just a killer; he was an accountant of human life. He had calculated the exact value of Sarah’s children, treating their innocent lives like commodities traded on a corrupt market.
I didn't wait for them to blow the roof. I decided to change the venue of the operation.
With a swift swipe across my tablet screen, I disabled the conservatory’s thermal climate controls and simultaneously triggered the emergency liquid-nitrogen fire-suppression system.
Hssssssssss!
From nozzles hidden among the hanging ferns and orchid displays, hundreds of gallons of supercooled liquid nitrogen blasted downward at sub-zero temperatures. The instant transformation from humid, tropical warmth to absolute zero created a violent atmospheric shockwave.
CRACK!
The massive glass roof didn't just shatter; it exploded inward in a glittering cascade of razor-sharp shards. The two mercenaries let out muffled screams as freezing vapor instantly froze their tactical gear solid, turning their wet breath into instant frost crystals inside their helmets.
"What the—the thermal seals are freezing! I can't move my legs!" one of them choked out, collapsing heavily onto the frozen soil among the ruined orchids.
I stepped out onto the iron catwalk above the shattered conservatory, holding the tactical shotgun with casual authority. The moonlight filtering through the broken glass cast long, skeletal shadows across my face.
"Looking for someone, gentlemen?" I called out, my voice echoing off the frozen stone walls.
The second mercenary whipped his rifle upward, trying to acquire a target through his iced-over visor. But before his barrel could align, I squeezed the trigger.
BOOM.
A non-lethal beanbag round slammed directly into his chest plate with the force of a speeding truck, lifting him off his feet and sending him crashing backward into a stone fountain. He lay still, unconscious and buried under a blanket of artificial snow and broken glass.
The first mercenary dropped his weapon, raising his frost-bitten hands in surrender as I vaulted down from the catwalk, landing silently on the frozen dirt beside him.
"Who sent you?" I demanded, pressing the barrel of the shotgun lightly against the side of his helmet. "Give me a single reason why I shouldn't leave you out here to join the blizzard."
The man shivered violently, his teeth chattering so hard he could barely speak. "Kane... Marcus Kane! He has the local sheriff on his payroll! Even if you survive tonight, you'll be arrested for murder by morning! There's nowhere to run, Doctor!"
I pressed the barrel slightly harder. "Where is Sarah?"
The mercenary’s eyes widened behind his frosted visor, filled with genuine terror that eclipsed even the fear of freezing to death. "She... she didn't make it across the ridge. Kane caught her at the old logging cabin three miles back. She bought the kids enough time to reach your gates, but..."
He didn't need to finish the sentence. The cold truth settled over my heart like an anchor dragging me into the dark depths of the ocean.
Sarah was gone.
My little sister, the girl I had failed to protect seven years ago, had fought her way through hell to save her children, only to be swallowed by the storm while her husband hunted her down like an animal.
"Doctor Vance!" Rosa’s panicked voice suddenly shrieked through the house intercom, breaking the heavy silence. "They’re not at the front gate anymore! Look at the back security monitor! They’ve breached the storm shelter tunnels!"
I spun around, my eyes locking onto the small remote monitor strapped to my wrist.
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The security feed showed a heavy steel maintenance hatch—located deep beneath the root cellar—being slowly pried open from the outside.
And stepping out of the dark underground tunnel, holding a heavy tactical crowbar in one hand and a silenced pistol in the other, was Marcus Kane himself.
