Chapter 8
The night air outside the mansion was thick with suffocating tension, the silence heavy and expectant. Kellan Ashbury stood perfectly still behind the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree near the estate’s main entrance. His dark suit blended seamlessly into the shadows, the cinematic lighting of the mansion far behind him. Dozens of his enforcers were positioned similarly, hidden in the dense foliage, their weapons trained on the heavy iron gates.
A low, rumbling sound broke the quiet. A convoy of six black SUVs approached the gates without headlights, moving like phantoms in the dark. The lead vehicle pulled up to the keypad, presumably entering the stolen access codes Cedric had provided.
The heavy iron gates swung open with a loud, metallic groan.
The convoy rolled onto the sprawling driveway, moving cautiously toward the brilliantly lit mansion. They believed they had the element of surprise, confident that the boss inside was scrambling to mount a desperate defense.
“Are we going to let them reach the marble steps before we introduce ourselves?” Kellan whispered into his tactical radio, his deep voice calm and measured.
“On your command, Boss,” his lieutenant replied through the earpiece.
Kellan watched the lead SUV pass his position. He raised his suppressed weapon, aiming with lethal precision.
“Fire,” Kellan commanded simply.
The tree line erupted.
A devastating volley of gunfire tore into the Marzano convoy from all sides. The element of surprise was entirely reversed. The ambush was brutal and instantaneous. The heavy SUVs skidded and crashed into one another on the gravel driveway as tires were blown out and engines were destroyed.
Marzano soldiers poured out of the vehicles, shouting in panic, returning fire blindly into the dark woods. But Kellan’s men were entrenched and disciplined. They picked off the invaders with terrifying efficiency.
Kellan moved through the shadows with the grace of a predator. He stepped out from behind the oak tree, his broad shoulders squared, and fired three rapid shots, dropping two men attempting to flank his position. His face was a mask of cold, unyielding fury.
The firefight was intense but brief. The Marzano force, vastly outmaneuvered and ambushed, broke rapidly. Those who could still run scrambled back toward the open gates, abandoning their ruined vehicles on the driveway.
“Are they retreating, or are they falling back to regroup?” Kellan asked over the radio, stepping over a fallen enemy and moving closer to the lead SUV.
“They’re running, Boss. Total rout,” the lieutenant confirmed. “We held the line.”
Kellan approached the bullet-riddled lead vehicle. The driver was dead, but the passenger door groaned open. A man stumbled out, clutching a bleeding shoulder. It was Vincent Marzano, the underboss of the rival family. He fell to his knees on the gravel, coughing heavily.
Kellan walked up to him, his leather shoes crunching on the broken glass. He stood over the wounded man, the artistic tattoos on his hands clearly visible in the moonlight as he aimed his weapon down.
“Did you honestly believe a coward like Cedric Bancroft could hand you the keys to my kingdom, Vincent?” Kellan asked, his voice a low, vibrating hum of absolute dominance.
Vincent looked up, his face pale with terror. “He said you were weak. He said you were distracted by the maid.”
“Is protecting what is mine a distraction, or is it the very foundation of my strength?” Kellan asked softly.
May you like
Without waiting for an answer, Kellan raised his weapon, the finality of the movement echoing through the quiet, bloody night.
“Will you tell your brother that the Ashbury syndicate is currently not accepting visitors?” Kellan asked.
