Chapter 8 - The Siege on the Citadel
Victor sprinted up the grand staircase toward his private study, his broad heart pounding against his ribs like a sledgehammer. Vincent Hale followed a step behind, his sidearm drawn, his dark eyes scanning every corner of the high-ceilinged hallway.
They kicked open the study doors and rushed behind the massive mahogany desk.
Victor reached up to the wall, grabbing the heavy silver picture frame that held the old photograph of him and Julian standing together as young men.
He turned the frame over, using his pocket knife to pry open the wooden backing.
Tucked between the photo and the velvet lining was a small, handwritten note written in dark ink—and a heavy silver key stamped with a three-digit vault number: 714.
Victor read the lines on the note aloud, his voice strained with emotion:
Victor,
If you are reading this, Arthur Vance has made his move. The man who died in Montreal three years ago was my body double, hired to draw the Vane family off my trail. I have been kept in an underground medical facility in upstate New York by Vane’s mercenaries for four years.
Vault 714 in the Manhattan Reserve contains the master key to their entire syndicate network. Bring my daughter to the vault. Her thumbprint is the biometric lock.
Save me, brother.
Julian.
Victor stared at the handwriting. His jaw locked with absolute, terrifying determination. "He's alive," Victor whispered. "My brother is alive."
"Boss!" Vincent yelled suddenly, pointing out the study window.
Down on the main approach road, four heavy armored transport trucks had just breached the outer perimeter gate, smashing through the iron bars and driving straight onto the grand lawn of the estate.
Dozens of armed mercenaries in grey tactical uniforms poured out of the vehicles, opening fire on the estate’s security posts with heavy automatic weapons.
"They brought a full assault force!" Vincent barked, firing three rounds through the balcony glass at the advancing mercenaries. "They know we have the key!"
"Get Clare and Maisie into the panic room beneath the kitchen!" Victor ordered, drawing two pistols from his desk drawer. "Hold the main hall at all costs!"
The mansion descended into a warzone. The deafening roar of automatic gunfire, breaking glass, and shouting guards echoed through the grand corridors.
Victor moved through the second-floor hallway like a storm, his ivory shirt stained with gunpowder residue as he provided covering fire for his men, dropping two advancing mercenaries near the grand staircase.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Clare was running toward the hidden pantry door, holding Maisie tightly against her chest.
Suddenly, three mercenaries kicked open the rear kitchen glass doors, their weapons raised.
"Drop the kid!" the lead mercenary barked.
Clare backed up against the marble island, her body shaking, shielding Maisie with her frame. "No! Please!"
Before the mercenary could take a step, a heavy metallic blast shattered the kitchen wall.
Vincent Hale burst through the drywall like a wrecking ball, tackling the lead mercenary to the floor and disarming him in a fluid, brutal motion. He fired two rapid shots, neutralizing the remaining two intruders before turning to Clare.
"Into the panic room! Move!" Vincent roared, lifting the heavy steel floor hatch beneath the pantry floor.
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Clare scrambled down the ladder with Maisie just as Victor arrived in the kitchen, his gray-blue eyes burning with lethal fury as he reloaded his weapons.
"The main hall is clear!" Victor yelled over the sound of dying gunfire outside. "Vincent, bring up the heavy transport! We’re heading to Manhattan now!"
