Chapter 5 - Fire in the Estate“They bypassed the outer cameras using military-grade frequency jammers,” Dante said, his voice entirely steady as he typed commands into the console, unlocking the estate’s automated defense grid. “Vincent! Get to the armory!”
He tapped his comms earpiece, but only static hissed back in response.
“The jammers are blocking our internal radio frequencies,” I realized aloud, my heart pounding against my ribs. “They’ve cut off communication between the vault and the upper floors.”
Dante cursed under his breath. He looked up at me, his dark eyes burning with fierce urgency. “Anna, listen to me very carefully. You need to stay in this vault. The heavy steel doors are blast-proof, and the emergency supply cache has enough water and rations for a month. Lock yourself inside.”
“And you?” I demanded, watching as Dante unlocked a hidden compartment beneath the armrest of his wheelchair and pulled out a tactical submachine gun in addition to his pistol, checking the magazine with lightning-fast proficiency. “You’re going up there alone?”
“I have to secure the upper hallways before they reach the family quarters,” Dante said, gripping the wheels of his chair. “If they breach the main house, they’ll burn it to the ground to send a message.”
“I’m not staying down here like a trapped animal,” I said, my voice shaking slightly, but my resolve absolute. I scanned the armory cabinet set into the concrete wall of the vault. Inside hung several riot shields, spare pistols, and tactical vests. “You taught me that courage without caution gets you killed. But hiding while my husband goes to war makes me a coward. And I am not a coward.”
Dante stared at me for a fraction of a second, a flash of profound shock crossing his face. Then, slowly, a fierce, approving grin broke across his lips.
“God help me, Anna,” he muttered, sliding a Glock pistol and a spare holster across the table toward me. “Put that on your belt. And stay right behind my left wheel. If anyone shoots at you, you drop flat. Understood?”
“Understood,” I said, my hands steadying as I strapped the holster around my waist and checked the safety of the weapon.
Together, we rode the private freight elevator from the underground vault up to the ground floor of the grand mansion.
When the elevator doors slid open, the contrast was terrifying. The luxurious hallways adorned with crystal chandeliers and oil paintings were now bathed in flashing red emergency lights and thick, acrid smoke drifting in from the shattered front foyer.
Shouts echoed from the grand staircase. Glass shattered as rifle butts smashed through the expensive stained-glass windows near the front entrance.
“Contact at two o’clock!” Dante whispered sharply.
Two masked gunmen rounded the corner near the library, raising their assault rifles.
Before they could acquire their target, Dante spun his wheelchair with blinding speed, raised his submachine gun, and squeezed the trigger. A controlled, three-round burst cracked through the hallway, striking the lead gunman in the chest and sending him crashing backward.
The second gunman panicked, swinging his rifle toward Dante.
Bang.
My shot wasn't as clean as Dante’s, but the bullet slammed directly into the doorframe inches from the second attacker’s head, shattering wood and causing him to flinch violently. That split-second hesitation was all Dante needed. He fired again, dropping the second man instantly.
Dante looked back at me, his eyes wide with a mix of adrenaline and stunned disbelief. “Not bad for a bookstore employee, Mrs. Spedaro.”
“I read a lot of thrillers,” I panted, my hands trembling as the smell of gunpowder filled the air.
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“Clearly,” Dante smirked, rolling forward over the Persian rug. “Now keep moving. The main armory and the panic room are at the end of this hallway. If we can secure the panic room, we can route the estate’s automated turret defenses.”
We pushed deeper into the smoke-filled mansion, fighting our way through the heart of the enemy assault, unaware that the true mastermind behind the attack was watching us from the security monitors in the library—waiting to spring a trap that would change everything.
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