Chapter 9
The red emergency lighting washed the opulent hallways in a sinister, bloody glow, completely stripping away the bright, luminous warmth that had defined the estate just moments ago. The blare of the klaxons was deafening, but Alban moved through the chaos with the cold, measured precision of a predator in its natural habitat.
"Status!" Alban barked into his encrypted radio as he and Marcus sprinted down the grand staircase toward the ground floor.
"Main gate is breached, Boss!" a panicked voice crackled back over the comms. "They used a shaped charge on the ironwork! We have multiple vehicles entering the courtyard! At least thirty heavily armed men! They’re wearing Valenti colors!"
"Hold the portico!" Alban commanded. "Do not let them breach the main doors. Fall back to the rotunda if you are overrun."
They reached the grand foyer just as the massive oak front doors shuddered under the impact of heavy, sustained automatic gunfire from outside. Splinters of ancient wood flew through the air, embedding themselves in the pristine marble floor.
Alban took cover behind a towering marble pillar, raising his tactical shotgun. He looked across the foyer at Marcus, who was pinned behind a heavy mahogany credenza.
"They know the layout!" Marcus yelled over the deafening roar of gunfire. "They're moving straight for the security hub in the east wing to disable the internal cameras!"
"Sibella gave them the blueprints," Alban growled, his eyes narrowing into lethal slits.
The heavy oak doors finally gave way, bursting inward with a splintering crash. Men in dark tactical gear flooded into the foyer, their weapons raised, scanning the opulent space for targets.
Alban didn't wait for them to acquire their bearings. He stepped out from behind the pillar, his movements fluid and terrifyingly fast. He fired three devastating rounds from his shotgun. The booming reports echoed like thunder in the enclosed space. The three lead Valenti gunmen were thrown backward, their body armor useless against the close-range, heavy-caliber impact.
Marcus popped up from behind the credenza, laying down a suppressing field of fire with his automatic rifle, forcing the remaining intruders to scramble for cover behind the shattered doors.
"Move!" Alban ordered, gesturing toward the service corridor that led to the basement stairs. "We can't hold the foyer! We need to choke them in the narrow hallways!"
They retreated swiftly, laying down covering fire as they moved. The estate was a labyrinth, and Alban knew every blind corner, every hidden passage. He led Marcus down the spiraling stone staircase into the basement level, the air growing instantly cooler and smelling of aged wine and damp stone.
At the bottom of the stairs, Alban stopped before the heavy steel door of the holding room where Sibella had been secured.
He keyed the access code, and the door swung open.
Sibella was sitting on a metal chair in the center of the dark room, shivering in her ruined evening gown. When she saw Alban standing in the doorway, framed by the red emergency lights, holding a smoking shotgun, she let out a high, terrified scream.
"Alban! What is happening?!" she cried, scrambling backward until she hit the concrete wall. "Are they here?!"
Alban walked slowly into the room, his polished leather shoes crunching over the concrete. He stopped two feet from her, his towering, masculine frame radiating pure, unadulterated danger.
"You invited wolves into my home, Sibella," Alban whispered, his voice colder than the basement air. "But you forgot who rules the forest."
"I had to!" she sobbed hysterically. "Thomas told me they would kill me if I didn't give them the codes! I thought they just wanted the vault! I didn't know they would attack the house while you were inside!"
"Where is Thomas?" Alban demanded, leaning down until his face was inches from hers.
"He's with them!" she wept, pointing a trembling finger toward the ceiling. "He’s leading the strike team! He knows the combination to the main safe in your study!"
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Alban’s eyes flared with a dark, terrifying realization.
"He isn't going to the study," Alban said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "The safe in the study is a decoy. You told him about the panic room."
