Chapter 9
The grand foyer of the Kingsley mansion had transformed from a luminous, elegant entrance into a chaotic warzone. Smoke hung thickly in the air, illuminated by the flashing red emergency lights. The carved walnut banisters were splintered by gunfire, and the polished marble floors were slick with blood and shattered glass.
Damon moved down the grand staircase like a shadow of pure, lethal intent. His polished leather shoes crunched softly over broken crystal. He raised his sidearm, taking in the tactical layout of the room in a fraction of a second. Four Voss guards were taking cover behind a flipped velvet sofa, laying suppressive fire toward Thomas and his men near the dining hall doors.
"Did you gentlemen get lost on your way out of my home?" Damon asked, his deep voice carrying flawlessly over the deafening crackle of gunfire.
The Voss guards snapped their attention toward the staircase. It was a fatal mistake. Moving with terrifying, practiced precision, Damon fired three shots in rapid succession. The heavy caliber rounds found their marks instantly, and three of the intruders collapsed onto the marble, dead before they hit the ground.
The last remaining guard panicked, dropping his rifle and throwing his hands in the air.
"Are you surrendering in my house after blowing off my doors?" Damon asked, walking slowly down the remaining steps, his gun trained directly on the trembling man's chest.
"Don't shoot!" the guard begged, falling to his knees. "Mr. Voss ordered us to extract Claudia! He said we had authorization to burn the house if we had to! We were just following orders!"
Damon stepped over the bodies of the fallen men, his cold eyes completely devoid of mercy. He looked at the cowering man, then glanced at Thomas, who was bleeding from a shallow graze on his arm but otherwise unharmed.
"Will you tell Mr. Voss that his daughter is currently resting in my basement?" Damon asked the kneeling guard, lowering his weapon slightly.
"Yes! Yes, I will tell him!" the guard cried out, scrambling backward toward the shattered front doors.
"Will you also tell him that if he ever sends armed men onto my property again, I will personally deliver his head to his wife in a velvet box?" Damon asked, his voice a low, terrifying rumble.
The guard nodded frantically, scrambling to his feet and sprinting out into the dark, chaotic night, desperate to escape the wrath of Damon Kingsley.
Damon holstered his weapon, casually adjusting the cuffs of his white shirt. He surveyed the ruined foyer, the smoke swirling around his broad shoulders.
"Are our casualties heavy, Thomas?" Damon asked, turning to his security chief.
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"No deaths on our side, boss," Thomas reported, wiping blood from his forehead. "A few injuries. We secured the perimeter. The Voss cowards are retreating."
"Will you arrange for the cleaners to remove the bodies, Thomas?" Damon asked. Without waiting for a response, he turned and began walking back up the grand staircase, his thoughts entirely focused on the safe room and the woman guarding his son.
