Chapter 4 - The Siege of Sterling Manor“Get down!” I shouted, tackling William behind a heavy marble console as the first sound of shattering glass echoed from the lower gallery.
The security radio hissed with static. Marcus’s voice came through, broken by the sound of scuffling and shouting in the background. “They’re in! Armed intruders, at least four men—they bypassed the gatehouse security and—”
The radio abruptly cut out with a high-pitched squeal, replaced by absolute dead air.
“Marcus!” William yelled into his handheld, but there was no response. The silence from the lower floors was heavier and more terrifying than any gunfire.
“They know we found the ledger and the thumb drive,” I said, keeping my voice low and steady as I drew a heavy brass letter opener from the desk. It wasn't a firearm, but in close quarters, it would have to do. “They’re here to sanitize the entire estate.”
William’s jaw set hard. The grief he had felt for his son moments ago had completely transformed into cold, calculated survival instinct. He was a billionaire titan who had built an empire from the ground up; he wasn't going to let corporate mercenaries slaughter his family in his own home.
“The panic room,” William whispered, grabbing my arm. “There’s a reinforced panic suite behind the library bookcases on this floor. Ethan is still in the executive study down the hall. We have to secure him first.”
“Move, but stay low,” I instructed.
We crept out of Isabella’s suite into the dimly lit corridor, guided only by the eerie red glow of emergency backup floor lights. The mansion was vast, a labyrinth of sprawling hallways, dark alcoves, and historical artifacts. To anyone unfamiliar with its layout, it was a death trap. To us, it was a temporary maze.
We reached the executive study. I pushed the door open cautiously.
Inside, the trusted housekeeper was standing guard by the sofa, holding a heavy iron fireplace poker. Little Ethan was awake, wide-eyed and shivering, clutching his knees to his chest.
“Thank God,” the housekeeper breathed in relief. “I heard the glass break downstairs. What is happening?”
“Intruders,” I said quickly. “We’re moving to the library panic suite right now. Stay behind me, keep low, and don't make a sound.”
We formed a tight cluster, moving swiftly down the carpeted hallway toward the grand library. The air grew colder as the storm outside battered the ancient stained-glass windows, casting distorted shadows across the towering bookshelves.
Just as we reached the heavy oak doors of the library, heavy footsteps echoed up the grand staircase at the end of the hall.
“Sweep the upper level,” a cold, clipped voice commanded in the darkness. “The boss wants everything clean. No witnesses.”
I pushed the library doors open, shoving everyone inside before slipping in behind them and throwing the heavy deadbolt. It wouldn't hold off professional mercenaries for long, but it would buy us precious seconds.
“Over here,” William directed, rushing to a section of the wall housing a massive first-edition collection of Shakespearean literature. He pulled down on a heavy leather-bound volume of Macbeth.
With a mechanical groan, a massive section of the bookshelf pivoted inward, revealing a steel-reinforced sanctuary equipped with independent air filtration, communication arrays, and heavy armor plating.
“In, everyone inside!” I urged, ushering Ethan and the housekeeper through the narrow opening.
William stepped in after them, but before I could follow, a deafening explosion rocked the outer library doors. The heavy oak splintered inward in a cloud of dust, iron hinges flying across the room like shrapnel.
Through the smoke, two figures dressed in tactical black gear and wearing night-vision goggles stepped into the library, assault rifles raised and scanning the room.
I didn't hesitate. As the lead operative swept his barrel toward the pivoting bookshelf, I lunged from the shadows of the adjacent aisle, driving the heavy brass letter opener downward with all my weight.
The operative grunted, stumbling backward as the makeshift weapon struck his tactical vest. But his partner swung around instantly, leveling his rifle directly at my chest.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The cold muzzle of the weapon locked onto me, and I knew I had run out of road.
Suddenly, a heavy, metallic click echoed from inside the panic room.
A blinding arc of high-voltage current shot from the automated security defense grid William had just activated, striking the second operative dead-center in the chest. The man dropped his rifle instantly, seizing violently before collapsing hard onto the hardwood floor.
The first operative turned in a panic, but before he could raise his weapon, I swept his legs out from under him and drove my fist into his helmet, sending him crashing into a display case.
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“Julian! Get in here now!” William roared from inside the sanctuary.
I didn't look back. I dived through the revolving doorway just as the heavy steel hydraulic mechanism slammed shut behind me, sealing us inside the vault as a hail of bullets impacted the outer wall like heavy rain.
