Chapter 10
The penthouse entered full lockdown mode. Heavy steel shutters silently descended over the floor-to-ceiling windows, sealing the luxury apartment in a fortified shell. The warm, modern lighting shifted to a dim, tactical red. Marcus stood by the main entrance, his posture rigid, a suppressed weapon held at the ready. David sat frozen on the sofa, clutching his briefcase, terrified by the sudden escalation from corporate law to physical violence.
Michael emerged from his office. He had discarded his tailored navy-blue suit jacket and gray vest, wearing only his pale-blue dress shirt and a tactical shoulder holster. He looked exceptionally handsome, but entirely deadly, his intense eyes focused completely on the heavy oak double doors of the penthouse entrance.
"They breached the lobby," Marcus reported, listening to his earpiece. "The night concierge has been secured. They are bypassing the elevator security protocols. They have a hacker overriding the mainframe."
"How long until they reach this floor?" Michael asked calmly.
"Two minutes," Marcus replied, his eyes narrowing. "Boss, Victor Vance doesn't leave witnesses. If they breach those doors, they are going to clear the room and take the child. We are outnumbered."
"I am aware," Michael stated, pulling his phone from his pocket. He dialed a highly classified number—a private security contractor he retained for his most dangerous overseas acquisitions. He needed extraction, and he needed it immediately.
While the phone rang, a soft, sleepy voice echoed from the hallway.
"Daddy?"
Michael whipped his head around. Renee stood at the edge of the hallway, rubbing her big expressive eyes. She was still wearing her beautiful pale-blue lace dress, her light-brown hair messy from sleep. The red tactical lights terrified her, and she hugged her arms tightly across her chest.
"Daddy, why is it red?" she whimpered, her tender face collapsing into fear.
Michael’s heart shattered. He sprinted across the living room, dropping to his knees and sliding across the hardwood floor. He pulled her into his arms, shielding her small body with his broad, muscular frame.
"It’s okay, sweetheart," Michael whispered desperately, kissing her forehead. "It’s just a game. A loud game. I need you to go back into your room and hide under the bed. Do not come out until I tell you to. Can you be brave for me?"
Renee nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm brave, Daddy."
She turned and ran back down the hallway, the bedroom door clicking shut behind her. Michael stood up, his protective fury reaching a boiling point. The phone in his hand finally connected.
"Extraction team," a voice answered.
"This is DeLuca. Code Red at the downtown penthouse. I need a rooftop evac in five minutes," Michael ordered.
Before the voice could confirm, a loud, violent crash echoed through the penthouse.
The heavy oak double doors bowed inward as a battering ram struck them from the outside. Wood splintered and cracked. Marcus raised his weapon, aiming directly at the center mass of the door. David scrambled behind the heavy marble kitchen island.
CRASH.
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The lock shattered. The doors burst open, revealing the dark, menacing figures of Victor Vance and his heavily armed retrieval team standing in the hallway, their weapons raised.
Michael stood dead center in the living room, his weapon drawn, his jaw locked in absolute defiance. The battle for his daughter’s life had arrived at his doorstep.
