He Broke a Peace Treaty for the Daughter He Never Knew Existed

"Take Mave and Posie to the underground bunker!" I ordered, pulling a heavy silver magnum from the concealed drawer beneath the mahogany desk.

"No! Garrett, I'm not leaving you!" Mave cried, grabbing my arm, her face white with terror.

"Mave, listen to me," I said, holding her shoulders tightly, staring directly into her eyes. "This house was designed to withstand a siege. The bunker below is made of eight-inch reinforced steel. Wesley will lock you inside. No one gets through that door except me. Do you hear me? Trust me!"

Posie ran over, clutching her mother's leg, whimpering softly.

I dropped to one knee, looking at my daughter. I reached out, gently tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her tiny ear. "Posie, listen to me, sweetheart. I need you to be a brave little girl and go with Mommy. I'm going to play a game with those bad men outside, okay?"

Posie looked at my pale gray eyes, so identical to her own, and nodded bravely. "Okay, Daddy."

The word Daddy echoed in my chest like a holy bell. It gave me a rush of adrenaline so pure, so deadly, that all fear vanished from my soul.

"Wesley, move!" I barked.

Wesley led Mave and Posie down the hidden staircase behind the fireplace, sealing the heavy iron vault door behind them.

BOOM!

A deafening explosion rocked the front entrance of the mansion as the fortified oak doors were blown inward by breaching charges. Glass shattered, wood splinters flew through the air, and smoke billowed into the grand foyer.

Ten heavily armed men wearing black tactical gear and Ashford family crests stormed through the smoke, their submachine guns raised.

From the top of the marble balcony, I leaned over the balustrade, firing three rapid, precise shots.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The lead tactical officer dropped instantly, followed by two others behind him. The remaining hitmen scattered behind the marble pillars, returning automatic fire that chewed through the expensive artwork and wooden paneling above my head.

"Garrett Hail!" a voice boomed from the smoke-filled entrance.

Stepping through the shattered doorway was Julian Ashford—Coraline’s older brother and the top enforcer of the Ashford syndicate. He held a high-caliber assault rifle, a cruel, vicious smirk plastered across his face.

"My sister is crying in her bridal suite, Garrett!" Julian taunted, firing a burst of bullets toward the balcony. "And my father wants your head on a silver platter! Hand over the whore and the bastard, and maybe we'll let you die like a gentleman!"

I crouched behind the thick stone pillar at the top of the stairs, reloading my magazine with cold, mechanical precision.

"You brought ten men to my home, Julian?" I called back, my voice echoing dangerously through the grand hall. "You should have brought an army."

I reached into my pocket, pulling out a small black remote control, and pressed the primary red button.

Instantly, automated heavy machine-gun turrets mounted inside the high ceiling joists dropped down, locking onto the tactical hitmen below with infrared precision.

TRRRRRRRRRR!

A wall of lead swept across the foyer. The Ashford hitmen didn't even have time to scream as they were ripped apart by the crossfire. Julian sprinted frantically toward the cover of a overturned leather couch, dropping his rifle in sheer terror.

I walked down the marble staircase slowly, my heavy boots stepping over the debris, the silver magnum pointed directly at Julian’s head as he scrambled backward against the wall.

"Please... Garrett! Wait!" Julian stammered, raising his bloody hands in desperation. "It was my father's idea! He ordered the hit! Coraline demanded your head!"

I stopped two feet away from him, looking down with icy detachment.