Chapter 10
Tristan stepped out of the elevator, instinctively shielding Clara and the baby behind his broad shoulders. His lead enforcer, a scarred veteran named Silas, was sprinting down the carpeted corridor toward them. Silas’s face was grim under the bright, luminous lighting, his dark suit dusted with what looked like plaster.
"What is it, Silas?" Tristan demanded, his deep voice instantly regaining its measured, terrifying authority. His hand dropped instinctively to the heavy pistol holstered beneath his suit jacket.
"It's the clinic, Boss," Silas reported, stopping a few feet away and catching his breath. "We sent a strike team to apprehend Dr. Thorne and the head nurse, just like you ordered."
"And?" Tristan prompted, his sharp jawline tightening.
"They're dead, sir," Silas said grimly. "Someone got to them first. Professional hit. Two to the back of the head for each of them. The clinic’s security footage was wiped clean ten minutes before our boys arrived."
Tristan’s dark eyes narrowed into cold, calculating slits. Sabine had been locked in the basement, entirely stripped of communication. She couldn't have ordered the hit to cover her tracks. Which meant someone else was pulling the strings. Someone who knew the truth about the baby and was actively cleaning up the loose ends to protect themselves from Tristan’s wrath.
"Sabine’s father," Clara whispered from behind him, her voice trembling with renewed terror. "The senator. He must have known about the plan. He’s tying off the loose ends so you can't prove his family was involved in the kidnapping."
"If he is covering his tracks, it means he is preparing to strike us directly," Tristan concluded, his mind racing through the tactical implications.
Suddenly, the deafening, wailing sound of the estate's perimeter breach alarm echoed violently through the corridors. The bright cinematic lighting flickered, and heavy steel blast shutters automatically began to descend over the massive windows of the mansion, sealing the estate like a fortress.
"Boss! The southern gates have been breached!" Silas yelled over his tactical radio, his earpiece buzzing frantically. "Multiple heavily armored, unmarked vehicles are on the property! They're hitting us with heavy artillery!"
The war had arrived. The senator was not waiting for an explanation regarding his daughter; he was executing a full-scale military assault to wipe out the Crowne syndicate and erase the evidence of his family's monstrous crimes.
Tristan turned to Clara, his expression a mask of absolute, unyielding fury and protective resolve.
"Get into the panic room inside the master suite. The biometric lock will only open for me," Tristan commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Do not come out until I tell you it is safe."
"Tristan, please," Clara begged, clutching the baby to her chest. "They will kill you."
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"I am going to slaughter every man who steps foot on my property tonight," Tristan promised, pressing a brief, fierce kiss to her forehead. "I will come back to you. Now go!"
Clara turned and ran into the master suite, the heavy steel door slamming shut behind her. Tristan drew his weapon, the artistic tattoos on his hands stark in the flashing emergency lights, and turned toward the stairwell to meet the invading army. The true battle for his family had only just begun.
