Chapter 39 - The Breached Walls
By the time I rocketed past the perimeter walls of the Vance estate, the wrought iron gates hung wide open, their electronic hinges twisted and smashed.
Two black tactical SUVs sat idling in the circular driveway, their high beams illuminating the facade of the manor like a firing squad. The heavy front doors had been breached, shattered oak splinters littering the stone entryway.
I killed the Land Rover’s engine and rolled into the shadow of the hedge maze, stepping out silently into the pouring rain. The Glock was firm in my grip.
The rain was deafening as it hammered the slate roofs, drowning out my footsteps as I climbed the exterior terrace toward the conservatory.
Inside the house, the power had been cut. The grand foyer was bathed in sweeping shafts of tactical flashlights.
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Through the glass panes of the conservatory, I saw two men in black ballistic gear dragging Harrison’s limp body across the marble floor—our security chief had either failed to cooperate at the last second or outlived his usefulness.
And then, from upstairs, from the nursery wing where Lily slept, came the sharp, terrified scream of a little girl.
