Chapter 8
The armored SUV didn't even slow down as it crashed through the ruined front gates, skidding to a violent halt on the manicured lawn. Marcus was out of the vehicle before it fully stopped, his weapon raised.
The estate was a warzone. The bodies of his loyal guards and masked mercenaries littered the marble foyer. Marcus moved like a shadow, his unbuttoned shirt billowing slightly as he ascended the grand staircase with terrifying, fluid speed. Silas and three remaining men formed a wedge behind him.
They reached the second floor. Two mercenaries were guarding the hallway leading to the safe room.
Marcus didn't slow his pace. He raised his weapon and fired twice. Both men dropped instantly, clean headshots. He stepped over their bodies, his polished shoes leaving bloody footprints on the expensive carpet.
He reached the blown-out doorway of the safe room. Smoke still hung thick in the air.
Inside, Jamal was bleeding on the floor, clutching his wounded shoulder. A mercenary was standing over him, rifle raised. Another man was arming an explosive on the panic closet door.
"Drop it," Marcus said.
The volume was incredibly low, but the command carried a weight so heavy the mercenaries froze. The one standing over Jamal turned toward the door.
Marcus fired, dropping the man instantly.
The second mercenary panicked and lunged for his detonator. Marcus crossed the room in two massive strides, grabbed the man's tactical vest, and threw him violently through the shattered window. The man’s scream faded as he plummeted to the concrete below.
Marcus immediately dropped to one knee beside Jamal.
"I'm okay, Uncle Marcus," Jamal gasped, wincing. "It's just a graze. Get them out."
Marcus nodded, his eyes softening for a fraction of a second before turning to the panic closet. He ripped the unprimed explosive off the door and threw it aside.
"Aaliyah," Marcus called out softly. "It's me. Open the door."
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The heavy bolts clicked. Aaliyah stumbled out, clutching Zariah, and collapsed into Marcus’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I've got you," Marcus whispered, wrapping his large, tattooed hands around them. "It's over."
