Lena Hart watched as six-year-old Owen proudly lifted a clear ornament containing pale powder

"Is the perimeter breached?" Elias asked, spinning around, his hand already reaching for the concealed weapon beneath his vest.

"Yes, Boss!" the operative choked out. "The Vane syndicate didn't wait! Daphne's personal guards got a signal out before we disarmed them! They hit the outer gates! We have multiple hostiles on the grounds!"

Elias looked back at Lena, his cold, perceptive eyes burning with an unyielding, protective fire.

"Shall we show them exactly what it costs to threaten my family?" Elias 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," Elias 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 Lena's wrist, and pulled her out of the drawing 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.

Elias moved with absolute, predatory grace. He kept Lena and Owen 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?" Elias shouted over the ringing in their ears, pulling Lena back to her feet and shielding Owen with his body.

"We're okay!" Lena gasped, coughing through the thick smoke, her hands gripping Owen tightly while still desperately clutching the glass ornament.

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?" Elias 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.

"Are you running so soon?" Elias asked, rising to his full height.