Chapter 6 - The Ghost in the CrossfireUpstairs, locked away in the guest suite, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Marcus kept his back pressed against the wall near the door, holding Vance’s dropped pistol with trembling hands. Bound tightly at the wrists and ankles, Vance sat propped against the mahogany dresser, a cruel smirk plastered across his bloodied face.
"You're a fool, kid," Vance muttered, his voice dripping with venom. "You think Julian's little fortress can withstand the combined forces of the entire Northside cartel? They aren't here just for you. They're here to erase everyone. By morning, this entire estate will be a smoking crater."
"Shut up," Marcus snapped, though his voice lacked conviction.
"Look at the girl," Vance whispered, tilting his head toward Eva, who was sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. "She finally started speaking again just in time to say goodbye. Cruel irony, isn't it?"
Eva’s eyes snapped toward Vance. The fear in her face vanished, replaced by an eerie, unnatural stillness. She stood up slowly from the bed.
Marcus panicked. "Eva, stay back. Don't listen to him."
She didn't listen. She walked past Marcus, stopping just two feet away from the bound traitor. Her gaze was locked onto Vance with an intensity that made the hardened criminal’s smirk falter.
"What are you looking at, brat?" Vance sneered, trying to mask his sudden unease.
Eva tilted her head. She opened her mouth, her voice small, clear, and cutting through the distant sound of explosions like glass sliding across stone.
“You forgot the basement.”
Vance’s face drained of all color. His eyes widened in absolute horror.
"What did you say?" Vance stammered.
Before Eva could answer, a loud, metallic clatter echoed from the ventilation shaft high up on the wall behind the dresser.
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The grate popped loose, clattering onto the hardwood floor.
A gloved hand reached out, followed by a masked operator dropping silently into the room.
