Chapter 9
Before Marcus could respond to the sound of his first name on her lips, the heavy mahogany doors of the ballroom burst open again. A bloodied security operative stumbled into the room, gasping for breath, his dark suit torn and dusted with plaster.
"Is the perimeter breached?" Marcus asked, spinning around, his hand already reaching for the concealed weapon beneath his vest.
"Yes, Boss!" the operative choked out. "The Vane syndicate didn't wait! Candice's personal guards got a signal out before we disarmed them! They hit the outer gates! We have multiple hostiles on the grounds!"
Marcus looked back at Mira, his cold, perceptive eyes burning with an unyielding, protective fire.
"Shall we show them exactly what it costs to threaten my family?" Marcus asked the quiet room, racking the slide of his handgun with a sharp, metallic clatter as the estate's high-pitched security sirens began to wail.
"Stay close to me," Marcus ordered, his deep voice slicing through the blaring noise.
He didn't wait for an answer. He reached out, his warm, tattooed fingers wrapping securely around Mira's wrist, and pulled her out of the ballroom, ensuring Noah was tucked safely between them. They stepped out into the chaotic, flashing hallway.
The bright, luminous colors of the mansion were gone, replaced by the chaotic strobe of red emergency lights and the deafening, rhythmic staccato of heavy gunfire echoing from the eastern wing. The smell of cordite and burning pine filled the air.
Marcus moved with absolute, predatory grace. He kept Mira and Noah tucked safely behind his broad shoulders, his weapon raised, his observant eyes sweeping every cream marble column and gilded wall panel for threats. They navigated the corridors, the sound of combat growing louder with every step.
As they reached the heavy oak doors separating the main house from the family wing, a massive explosion rocked the foundation of the estate.
The shockwave threw them against the carved walnut furniture lining the hall. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling. The heavy oak doors were blown entirely off their hinges in a blinding flash of orange fire.
"Are you injured?" Marcus shouted over the ringing in their ears, pulling Mira back to her feet and shielding Noah with his body.
"We're okay!" Mira gasped, coughing through the thick smoke, her hands gripping Noah tightly.
Through the ruined doorway, the bright tactical lights of three heavily armed mercenaries pierced the darkness. They were moving aggressively down the corridor, aiming their assault rifles directly at the private residential wing.
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"Did you forget whose house you entered?" Marcus asked the empty air.
He stepped out from cover, his artistic tattoos flexing as he gripped his weapon.
