Chapter 8 - the siege of chicago
Using a small pair of surgical scissors, Elina carefully snipped the fine threads along the seams of the beige stuffed rabbit's belly.
Inside the soft cotton stuffing rested a small, heavy object wrapped in oilskin paper.
Elina pulled it out and unwrapped the paper.
Resting in her palm was an ancient, intricate brass key engraved with a secondary Rossi crest and a series of microscopic numbers along the shaft.
Marco stepped closer, examining the key with a magnifying glass. "It’s a physical vault key for the Bank of England's private sovereign depository in London."
Damiano picked up the brass key, holding it up to the morning light. "Julian didn't just record Victor's financial fraud. He secured Marisol's entire two-billion-dollar inheritance inside that vault before he died."
"Which is why Sterling tried to kill us last night," Elina realized, her voice shaking. "If Marisol doesn't present this key in London, Sterling keeps everything."
"Then we go to London," Damiano declared smoothly, setting the key into his coat pocket.
Before Marco could order the private jet prepped, the mansion's primary perimeter alarms blared across the estate. Red emergency lights flashed along the baseboards as the heavy iron blast shutters descended over the ground-floor windows.
Marco pulled up the main gate camera feed on the central monitor.
Standing outside the outer iron gates on Elm Road were six dark armored vehicles. Over twenty heavily armed mercenaries in tactical gear were assembling behind concrete barriers, raising heavy breaching charges against the estate gates.
Leading the assault force was Richard Vane—Victor Vane's ruthless thirty-five-year-old son, who had inherited his father's private security network.
Richard Vane's raspy voice boomed over the estate intercom: "Damiano! Hand over the child and the brass key! Surrender Victor from your holding cell, or we breach this mansion and execute everyone inside!"
Damiano walked over to the weapon rack on the wall, pulling out a heavy tactical rifle with practiced, terrifying grace.
He looked at Marco, then at Elina, who was holding baby Marisol tightly in her arms.
"Marco," Damiano ordered, his gray-blue eyes burning with an unyielding, fierce strength. "Take Elina and Marisol to the armored transport in the subterranean garage."
"What about you, Boss?" Marco asked, racking the slide of his rifle.
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Damiano offered a dark, deadly smile beneath his thick beard.
"I am going to show Richard Vane what happens when you threaten my family."
