Chapter 5 - Darkness in the Glass FortressThe emergency red backup lights flickered on, casting long, bloody shadows across the minimalist living room.
— System breach on the private elevator line, Dr. Vance said instantly, her professional calm never wavering as she snapped her medical kit shut and pulled a heavy tactical stun baton from her belt.
Matthew didn't panic. His expression turned into something carved from stone. He straightened up, his hand sliding smoothly beneath his suit jacket, where the cold, dark outline of a silenced firearm rested in a shoulder holster.
— They found us faster than I expected, Matthew said, his eyes fixed on the sealed elevator doors at the end of the hall.
— Who? Elena stood up, clutching his coat tighter around her. — Is it Isabel? Did she send more men?
— No, Matthew replied, walking swiftly toward a concealed wall panel that slid open to reveal an armory of high-tech weaponry and communication gear. — Isabel doesn't have the clearance or the muscle to bypass my building's security protocols in under ten minutes. That was professional work.
The heavy steel doors of the private elevator let out a dull, echoing groan.
Clang.
The digital display above the door flickered from red to green. Someone had just overridden the master lockdown code from the building's basement control room—or someone on Matthew’s own payroll had sold them out.
— Elena, get behind the reinforced steel pillar by the kitchen, Matthew commanded, not looking back as he chambered a round into a compact submachine gun.
— I’m not hiding while you fight my battles, Elena snapped, her adrenaline spiking through every nerve in her body. She looked around the room, spotting a heavy crystal decanter sitting on the bar. She grabbed it by the neck, her knuckles turning white. — I’ve spent five years running from them. I’m done running.
Matthew glanced at her over his shoulder. A flicker of something resembling respect—or perhaps profound danger—flashed in his dark eyes.
— Stay low, he muttered.
Boom.
The elevator doors blew outward in a shower of sparks and shattered steel. Smoke billowed into the penthouse, and through the haze, three figures stepped out clad in matte-black tactical gear, their faces hidden behind dark Kevlar masks, automatic rifles raised.
Bullets instantly chewed through the expensive leather sofas and shattered the decorative glass tables, sending a hail of razor-sharp debris flying across the room.
Matthew moved with terrifying, fluid speed. He ducked behind a marble counter, returning fire with lethal precision. The first intruder dropped instantly, a clean round piercing his tactical vest.
The second and third attackers advanced, firing suppression rounds toward Matthew's position while moving to flank the kitchen area—directly toward where Elena was standing.
Elena’s heart pounded in her ears. As the second operative stepped past the kitchen island, his rifle pointed toward the dark corner, Elena didn't hesitate.
She stepped out from the shadows and swung the heavy crystal decanter with all the pent-up fury of five years of abuse, striking the man squarely across the side of his helmet.
The heavy crystal shattered into a thousand glittering diamonds, and the operative staggered sideways, disoriented just long enough for Matthew to pivot, raise his weapon, and drop him with a single shot to the shoulder.
The final intruder froze, realizing he was caught in a crossfire. He dropped his rifle, raising his hands slowly into the air.
— Don't move! the man snarled through his mask.
Matthew stepped out from behind the counter, his weapon locked dead on the man's chest. But before Matthew could pull the trigger, the intruder reached up, ripped off his mask, and spat a mouthful of blood onto the pristine white rug.
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Elena gasped.
It wasn't one of Isabel’s thugs. It was the chief head of security for Carranza Enterprises.
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