Chapter 5 - The Siege at Marsh Estate"North Gate breached!" Ethan shouted into his tactical radio, dodging as a chunk of plaster fell from the gallery archway. "We have multiple armed hostiles moving through the sculpture garden! Security grid is going dark!"
Clare’s face went pale. The blinking red light on her remote flickered erratically. "They're early," she muttered, panic finally breaking through her cold exterior. "They weren't supposed to arrive until midnight."
"Who is coming, Clare?" Julian demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her hard. "Talk to me! Who owns those trucks?"
"The Syndicate," she breathed, her eyes darting toward the window. "The men who fund every skyscraper, every politician, and every bank in this city. Your father tried to break away from them last month. That's why they finished him for real three days ago in the hospital. And now they're here to clean house—starting with everyone inside this room."
Ethan raised his weapon toward the gallery entrance, taking cover behind a heavy marble pillar as automatic gunfire began to chew through the outer hallway walls. Wood splinters and lead shredded the expensive wallpaper, turning the grand estate into a slaughterhouse.
"Sir! We have to move, now!" Ethan yelled over the deafening rattle of gunfire. "We can't hold this gallery; it's a bottleneck!"
Julian looked down at the black box in his hands, then across the room to where Dileia was shielding little Sophia behind a massive oak sideboard. The little wooden horse, Thunder, lay discarded on the Persian rug nearby. Sophia was crying softly, her tiny frame shivering with terror.
Julian couldn't run. If he ran, Dileia and Sophia would be executed to leave no witnesses.
"Ethan, cover the doorway!" Julian shouted, handing the black box to his security chief. He turned to Clare, snatching the remote detonator right out of her hand with a swift, violent motion before she could react.
"Hey! Give me that!" Clare screamed, lunging at him.
"If this is a dead man's switch," Julian said coldly, backing toward the vault entrance, "then let's see how much these bastards want what's buried inside."
He didn't run away from the danger. He stepped backward into the dark, steel-lined vault, dragging Clare with him by the arm, and slammed the heavy steel door shut just as a hail of bullets riddled the outer wall of the portrait gallery.
Clang! Thud!
The heavy door locked automatically with a deep, hydraulic seal.
Inside the vault, pitch blackness enveloped them for a split second before emergency battery-powered LED strips flickered to life along the concrete floor.
Dileia’s voice echoed faintly from outside through the thick steel barrier, frantic and terrified. "Mr. Marsh! Mr. Marsh, can you hear us?"
Julian pressed his palm against the inner intercom panel. "Ethan! Get Dileia and the child through the service tunnels behind the kitchen! Move!"
"Boss, I'm not leaving you—"
"That's an order, Ethan! Protect the child!" Julian roared.
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Outside, the heavy thud of combat boots echoed across the gallery floor. Men speaking in low, clipped military code were barking orders, searching the ruins of the portrait gallery.
Inside the vault, Julian stood in the dim, humming light, holding the remote detonator in one hand and looking down at the woman who had ruined his life.
