Chapter 13 - The Breach at Dawn
The fire came sooner than either of them expected.
At 3:42 AM, the estate’s silent perimeter alarms flared red. Not a quiet ping on a tablet, but the shrill, synchronized screech of the hardwired panic grid.
Sarah bolted upright in the master bed. The space beside her was empty; Julian was already standing by the window, half-dressed in dark tactical trousers, racking the slide of a Heckler & Koch pistol with mechanical efficiency.
"Stay in the panic suite," Julian commanded, his voice sharp and absolute. "Marco has the kids. The secondary extraction chopper is idling on the pad."
"I'm not hiding this time," Sarah said, throwing off the duvet. She grabbed a heavy iron poker from the fireplace hearth in the master bedroom. The fear was there, cold and sharp, but beneath it burned the fierce, unyielding instinct of a mother who had fought too hard for her life to let it be stolen away in the dark.
Julian looked at her, and for a fraction of a second, a flash of pure, terrified pride crossed his hard features. "Stay behind me."
They moved out into the grand hallway together. The power had been cut; emergency red strip-lighting cast long, distorted shadows across the imported Persian rugs. Downstairs, the heavy sound of shattered glass echoed through the foyer, followed by rapid, suppressed gunfire.
"They're in the East wing," Julian muttered, pushing Sarah back as a volley of bullets punched through the drywall inches from his head.
He fired twice around the corner. A heavy thud announced a body hitting the marble floor.
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"Boss!" Marco’s voice roared over the encrypted comms earpiece. "They’ve cut the chopper access! Front gate is swarmed—we're pinned in the ground-floor vault!"
Julian’s face went pale—not with fear for himself, but with the terrifying realization that his family was trapped.
