Chapter 10
Elora’s breath hitched. The magnitude of the offer, and the safety it provided, was overwhelming. The warm, golden light of the chandeliers caught the fresh tears welling in her eyes, this time born of absolute relief.
"Thank you, Ronan," Elora whispered.
Before Ronan could respond to the sound of his first name on her lips, the heavy mahogany doors of the drawing room burst open again. A bloodied security operative stumbled into the room, gasping for breath, his dark suit torn.
"Is the perimeter breached?" Ronan asked, spinning around, his hand already reaching for the concealed weapon beneath his vest.
"Yes, Boss!" the operative choked out. "The Rowe syndicate didn't wait! Sabrina's personal guards got a signal out before we disarmed them! They hit the outer gates! We have multiple hostiles on the grounds!"
Ronan looked back at Elora, his cold, perceptive eyes burning with an unyielding, protective fire.
"Shall we show them exactly what it costs to threaten my family?" Ronan 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," Ronan 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 Elora's wrist, and pulled her out of the drawing room, ensuring Mia 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.
Ronan moved with absolute, predatory grace. He kept Elora and Mia 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?" Ronan shouted over the ringing in their ears, pulling Elora back to her feet and shielding Mia with his body.
"We're okay!" Elora gasped, coughing through the thick smoke, her hands gripping Mia 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.
"Did you forget whose house you entered?" Ronan asked the empty air.
He stepped out from cover. The roar of his weapon was deafening in the enclosed space. The first mercenary collapsed backward, his chest armor shattered by the armor-piercing rounds. The second man spun wildly, his weapon firing blindly into the ceiling before he hit the marble floor.
The third assassin panicked, scrambling toward the heavy mahogany doors to escape the absolute slaughter.
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"Elora, take Mia and run to the safe room," Ronan commanded, his eyes fixed on the smoke-filled corridor as more shouts echoed from the breach. "Do not stop until the heavy doors lock behind you. I will hold the line here."
Elora didn't argue. She scooped Mia into her arms and ran toward the fortified steel doors at the end of the hall. Ronan watched them go, raising his weapon with a cold, unwavering stare, ready to burn his own empire to the ground to protect the woman and child hidden behind him.
