Chapter 4 - Blood in the RainThe corridors of Blackwood Estate quickly became a killing floor.
I pushed Emma and Dr. Hayes deep into the panic room hidden behind the massive oil painting in my study, sealing the eight-inch-thick steel door behind them with a biometric retinal scan. Only my eye and my heartbeat could open it now.
"Stay inside," I told Emma through the intercom keypad. "I'm coming back for you."
I turned around, stepping back into the dim red glow of the main hallway. The sound of gunfire echoed like thunder through the vaulted ceilings—the sharp crack of tactical rifles mixed with the heavy thud of shotgun blasts. Cross’s men were ruthless, but my guards were veterans of turf wars that the police department didn't even dare write reports on.
I moved with silent, lethal precision, hugging the shadows.
A masked mercenary rounded the corner near the grand staircase, his assault rifle raised. He didn't even have time to register my presence before two rounds caught him dead-center in his ceramic vest, dropping him instantly.
I stepped over his twitching body, snatching his radio.
“Sector 3 is compromised!” a voice shouted over the channel. “Cross wants the child alive! Burn the rest of the estate if you have to, but find that girl!”
So, Cross wanted to burn my home? Fine. Let's play with fire.
I sprinted toward the basement armory, bypassing three more mercenaries whom I quietly dispatched in close-quarters combat. My knuckles were stained with blood—some mine, mostly theirs—and my adrenaline was surging at a fever pitch.
Reaching the armory, I bypassed the biometric lock and threw open the heavy steel vault doors. Rows of automatic weapons, tactical gear, and high-explosive charges lined the walls.
I grabbed a tactical vest, strapped an extra dozen magazines to my chest, and picked up a specialized thermal breaching charge.
As I turned to exit, a towering figure stepped out from the shadows of the armory's back storage room.
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It was Viktor, Cross’s personal head enforcer—a massive, scarred brute known as the butcher of Brighton Beach. He held a heavy-duty tactical shotgun aimed right at my chest.
"End of the line, Blackwood," Viktor snarled, a sadistic grin spreading across his battered face. "Boss says hello."
