Chapter 15 - Smoke and Steel
The ground floor of the Alpine mansion was a war zone.
Smoke billowed through the grand hallways, smelling of sulfur and burnt rubber. The walls were scarred with bullet holes, and shattered crystal chandeliers littered the polished hardwood floors.
Adrian moved through the corridor like a phantom, hugging the shadows, his carbine raised. He stepped over the body of one of his guards, his eyes scanning every corner. They had used the old Prohibition-era drainage tunnels—a forgotten architectural relic from the estate’s original bootlegging days that even the updated blueprints had failed to secure properly.
A shadow shifted near the grand staircase.
Adrian didn't hesitate. He raised his weapon and fired two suppressed rounds into the drywall just as a figure dove behind a marble pillar.
“Nice shooting, Moretti!” a thick, accented voice echoed through the smoking hall.
Viktor Vasiliev stepped out from behind the pillar, his hands empty, a mocking smile playing across his lips. Behind him, three of his Spetsnaz operatives held position, their assault rifles trained on Adrian’s chest.
“Viktor,” Adrian said coldly, keeping his carbine locked squarely on the Russian’s center mass. “You managed to crawl out of your hole in Siberia just to die in New Jersey.”
“Ah, the great Adrian Moretti,” Viktor laughed, spreading his arms wide. “Always so dramatic. You think you can just retire? You think you can walk away from the table, hide your little nurse, and pretend the blood on your hands washes off with bathwater?”
“She’s not hiding,” Adrian replied, his voice dangerously low. “And neither am I.”
“No, you’re right—you’re standing right here, playing hero,” Viktor sneered, his eyes flashing with malice. “But while you’re playing hero down here in the ruins of your little mansion, my men are already opening the sub-level vault. Do you really think four inches of concrete can stop industrial thermite charges, Adrian?”
Adrian’s blood ran cold. He knew the safe suite was reinforced, but against specialized military-grade thermite, it was only a matter of time before the seals melted.
“You want me, Viktor,” Adrian said, slowly lowering his weapon an inch, playing for time. “Let the woman and the children go. This is between you and me.”
Viktor chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “No, my friend. In our world, there are no half-measures. I’m going to take everything from you—just like you took everything from my family six years ago.”
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Before Viktor could finish his sentence, Adrian dropped to the floor, sweeping his leg in a violent arc and drawing his secondary Glock in a single fluid motion.
The hallway erupted into sudden, deafening gunfire.
