Chapter 5
By nine o'clock at night, a heavy autumn mist rolled in off Lake Michigan, blanketing the city of Chicago in a thick, gray fog.
Deep within the suburban woods surrounding the Moretti estate, the quiet night was suddenly shattered by the sharp, metallic click of silenced weapons being readied in the dark.
Inside the estate’s ground-floor conservatory, Clara sat at a small wooden table, drawing a picture of a plush bunny with blue crayons. Standing nearby was Adrian’s personal housekeeper and two armed guards disguised in dark suits.
Suddenly, the lights inside the mansion flickered twice and went dead, plunging the grand estate into absolute darkness, save for the emergency backup lights that cast a dim red glow across the corridors.
Clara froze, her blue crayon hovering over the paper.
In the second-floor war room, Marco’s tablet chimed with a high-priority perimeter alert. "Boss! Motion sensors on the east fence line just went down! We have an active breach!"
Adrian did not panic. He stood in the darkened hallway, pulling a sleek, customized black sidearm from his shoulder holster. His thick dark brown hair was neat, his piercing eyes glowing with cold, deadly focus under the red emergency lights.
"Gregory Vance," Adrian growled, his deep voice dangerously calm. "He followed us from the restaurant. He brought a hit squad to breach my home."
"They cut the main power grid," Marco reported, drawing his own weapon. "They're moving through the glass atrium."
"Marco, take Team Beta and secure Clara in the subterranean panic vault," Adrian ordered flatly. "No one touches that child."
"What about you, Boss?" Marco asked anxiously.
"I’m going to welcome our guests," Adrian replied coldly.
Downstairs, six heavily armed mercenaries dressed in black tactical gear breached the glass atrium, their boots stepping silently onto the marble floor. Leading the squad was Gregory Vance—the man in the tan overcoat, now wearing a dark tactical vest, his ordinary face set in a ruthless, murderous scowl. He held a suppressed automatic rifle, scanning the shadows.
"Find the girl," Vance whispered into his radio comms. "Kill anyone who gets in the way. Sterling wants her head before midnight."
Before the mercenaries could advance three steps, a shadow detached itself from the grand marble pillars at the far end of the hall.
Adrian Moretti stepped into the dim red light. He stood broad-shouldered and imposing, his black dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing his chest tattoos. He held his sidearm at his side, completely unbothered by the six rifle barrels pointing directly at his chest.
"You're in the wrong house, Vance," Adrian said, his deep baritone echoing through the vast space like thunder.
Vance raised his rifle, a cruel smirk crossing his face. "Moretti. You should have minded your own business. A twenty-dollar contract isn't worth your life."
"A contract with me is worth everything," Adrian responded softly.
In a fraction of a second, Adrian moved with terrifying, feline speed. He fired three rapid, precise shots into the darkness.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The suppressed gunshots cracked through the atrium like thunderbolts. Three mercenaries collapsed instantly to the marble floor, their weapons clattering across the tiles.
Vance gasped in shock, diving behind a heavy stone pillar as the remaining two mercenaries opened fire, spraying the marble walls with suppressed automatic rounds.
Adrian moved seamlessly between the stone pillars, utilizing the estate’s layout with absolute mastery. He fired twice more, dropping the fourth and fifth mercenaries before they could locate his position.
Vance scrambled backward toward the shattered glass doors, terror finally breaking through his cold demeanor. He dropped his rifle, pulling a sidearm as he backed out into the foggy garden.
Adrian stepped out from behind the pillar, his polished black shoes clicking rhythmic authority against the marble. He raised his weapon, lining up the sights on Vance’s chest through the fog.
"Tell Sterling I'm coming for Pier 42," Adrian growled coldly.
May you like
He fired a single shot, striking Vance in the shoulder. The enforcer let out a pained scream, tumbling through the shattered glass into the dark woods below, retreating frantically into the fog.
Adrian stood in the quiet atrium, his broad chest heaving slightly, his dark eyes staring out into the night. He adjusted his cuffs, holstered his weapon, and turned back toward the subterranean stairs, ready to check on the seven-year-old girl who had entrusted him with her life.
