Chapter 10
The syndicate war had officially begun, and Elias Crowne was ready to burn his own empire to the ground to protect the woman and child hidden behind him. The bright, cinematic lighting of the mansion flickered and died, plunging the warzone into flashing strobes of muzzle fire.
"Flank him!" a mercenary shouted over the din, signaling for two heavily armored men to rush the left side of the corridor.
Elias didn't give them the chance. He moved aggressively forward, closing the distance before they could coordinate. He grabbed the nearest mercenary by the tactical vest, using the man as a human shield as he fired three rounds into the men rushing him from the right. He dropped the body and dove behind a heavy walnut credenza just as the wall behind him was chewed to pieces by return fire.
"Boss! We're coming up the rear staircase!" Vincent's voice crackled over the radio clipped to Elias's belt.
"Pincer movement, Vincent," Elias ordered calmly, slamming a fresh magazine into his pistol. "Do not let a single one of them reach the safe room doors."
"Copy that, Boss."
Within seconds, the sound of heavy boots and shotgun blasts erupted from the far end of the hallway. The Vane mercenaries, caught completely off guard by the flanking maneuver, panicked. They were caught in a brutal crossfire between the syndicate's elite guards and the enraged mafia boss.
The firefight lasted for three agonizing, bloody minutes. When the final mercenary collapsed, the hallway was a ruin of shattered glass, broken marble, and bodies.
Elias stepped out from behind the credenza, his chest heaving. His tailored suit was torn at the shoulder, a superficial graze bleeding slowly onto his white shirt, but he was alive. He kept his weapon raised, sweeping the corridor to ensure there were no survivors.
"Clear!" Vincent shouted, stepping over the wreckage. "The perimeter is secure, Boss. The Vane family overplayed their hand. They sent a dozen men, and they're all dead."
"What of Daphne?" Elias asked, his voice a low rumble.
"Secured in the basement, sir. She hasn't stopped demanding her lawyers," Vincent replied, looking at the blood on Elias's shoulder. "You need a medic."
"I need my family," Elias corrected him, holstering his weapon.
He walked down the ruined corridor, his polished leather shoes crunching over broken plaster and glass. He reached the heavy steel doors of the safe room and punched in the overriding access code.
The heavy bolts clicked, and the door swung open.
Lena was sitting on the floor of the safe room, rocking Owen gently in her arms. She looked up as the door opened, her puffy, exhausted eyes widening in terror before softening into absolute, overwhelming relief.
"Elias," Lena gasped, scrambling to her feet, pulling Owen up with her.
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She rushed forward, throwing her arms around his neck, completely ignoring the blood on his shirt and the dust covering his suit. Elias caught her, his powerful arms wrapping securely around her slender waist. He buried his face in her disheveled hair, breathing in the scent of her, the adrenaline finally beginning to ebb from his veins. The glass ornament rested safely on a nearby table, intact.
"The immediate threat is neutralized," Elias murmured into her hair. "But the war has only just begun."
