Chapter 10
Elliot looked back at Iris, his cold, perceptive eyes burning with an unyielding, protective fire.
"Shall we show them exactly what it costs to threaten my family?" Elliot 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," Elliot 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 Iris's uninjured wrist, and pulled her out of the dining room, ensuring Owen 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.
Elliot moved with absolute, predatory grace. He kept Iris and Owen tucked safely behind his broad shoulders, his weapon raised, his observant eyes sweeping every corner and gilded wall panel for threats. They navigated the marble 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?" Elliot shouted over the ringing in their ears, pulling Iris back to her feet and shielding Owen with his body.
"We're okay!" Iris gasped, coughing through the thick smoke, her hands gripping Owen 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?" Elliot asked the empty air.
He stepped out from cover, pulling Iris and Owen tightly against the wall. 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.
"Are you running so soon?" Elliot asked, rising to his full height.
He aimed and fired a single, decisive shot. The third man crumpled in the doorway, his body wedging the heavy doors open.
The hallway fell into a terrifying, ringing silence. The warm golden light flickered as a damaged sconce swayed precariously above.
Elliot did not lower his weapon. He kept his very short stubble and sharply defined jawline locked in a mask of lethal focus, his eyes scanning the corridor outside for further threats.
"Is everyone unharmed?" Elliot asked quietly, pulling Iris and his son securely against his chest.
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Before Iris could answer, the frantic, panicked shouting of a secondary strike team echoed down the hallway, followed immediately by the sound of more glass shattering. The Cross syndicate hadn't just sent three men; the breach was massive.
"Iris, take Owen and run to the safe room," Elliot commanded, his eyes fixed on the smoke-filled corridor, the true battle for his family's survival erupting in the shadows.
