Chapter 9
Victor stumbled out the doors, coughing violently. As he reached his armored SUVs, he turned back, screaming a final, desperate threat into the freezing night. "You’re dead, Crowne! You hear me? We’re coming for you tonight! I'll kill that ghost and the maid who started this!"
The heavy oak doors slammed shut, sealing the mansion once more.
Vincent stood in the center of the foyer, casually adjusting his collar. The confrontation had barely raised his heart rate, but the final threat directed at Natalie and Diana ignited a dark, murderous rage deep within his chest.
"Did you secure the perimeter, Marcus?" Vincent asked, turning to his underboss.
"Yes, Boss. We have twenty men on the walls and snipers on the roof," Marcus replied, pulling a heavy, suppressed pistol from his coat. "But the Voss syndicate has numbers. If they mobilize their entire crew, they could breach the gates within the hour."
"Are Silas and his men stationed at the eastern wall?" Vincent inquired, walking toward a hidden biometric gun safe built into the marble wall.
"Yes, sir. Silas is leading the defense on that side," Marcus confirmed.
"Will you quietly dispatch two loyal men to execute Silas immediately, before he opens the gates for them?" Vincent asked, pressing his thumb to the scanner. The safe hissed open, revealing an arsenal of tactical weaponry.
Marcus blinked in shock. "Silas? Boss, he's the head of perimeter security."
"Did you think Elara built a steel room in my walls without the head of security smuggling the materials?" Vincent asked, pulling out a heavy assault rifle, racking the slide with a terrifying, metallic clack.
Marcus's heavily scarred face darkened with realization and fury. "I'll handle the traitor myself, Boss."
Before Marcus could turn away, a deafening roar shook the foundation of the estate. A massive explosion outside shattered the reinforced glass of the high foyer windows, raining crystalline shrapnel down upon the marble floor. The staccato rhythm of automatic gunfire immediately followed, echoing from the front gates.
The war had begun.
"Are you prepared to die on my doorstep, Victor?" Vincent whispered to himself, his cold eyes blazing with lethal intent. He looked at Marcus. "Will you ensure the west wing remains impenetrable while I handle the vermin outside?"
The deafening barrage of gunfire outside the mansion escalated into a continuous, thunderous roar, shaking the gilded moldings of the luxurious estate. The cascading crystal chandeliers flickered ominously, casting erratic, strobe-like light across the marble floors. Vincent moved through the chaos with terrifying, lethal precision, his assault rifle raised, his broad shoulders squared against the incoming assault.
"Are they breaching the eastern wall?" Vincent yelled over the comms, taking cover behind a heavy stone pillar as a spray of bullets shattered a priceless antique mirror nearby.
"They used shaped charges, Boss!" a guard replied through the radio static. "But Marcus got to Silas! The gate is holding!"
In the private west wing, the sounds of the battle were muffled but unmistakably terrifying. Diana sat on the floor of the master suite, her back pressed against the heavy oak door. She held a heavy brass candlestick she had taken from the mantle, her knuckles white. Natalie remained fast asleep, entirely exhausted, oblivious to the fact that an army of mafia hitmen were trying to burn her house down.
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Diana’s sophisticated black maid dress was covered in dust that had shaken loose from the ceiling. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for the imposing mafia boss who had promised to protect them.
Suddenly, the handle of the bedroom door rattled violently.
