Chapter 10
The concussive blasts from above grew louder, shaking the heavy military cots inside the vault. Esme held Caleb fiercely against her chest, her crisp white collar now stained with the boy's tears and the dust falling from the ceiling. She looked at Dorian standing by the massive steel door, his tailored vest immaculate, his powerful shoulders squared against the impending violence.
"Please don't go," Esme whispered, the desperation in her voice breaking through her fear. "They have an army out there. You will die."
"Do you believe an army of cowards can best a man fighting for his family?" Dorian asked, his cold, observant eyes locking onto hers with a terrifying, absolute certainty.
He didn't wait for her to answer. Dorian turned and stepped through the heavy steel door. Marcus immediately grabbed the massive locking lever, straining with all his might to throw the deadbolts into place. The resounding CLANG of the vault sealing shut felt like a death knell in the small, fluorescent-lit room.
Above ground, the Whitlock mansion was a warzone. The cascading crystal chandeliers lay shattered on the marble floors, and the ivory-paneled walls were riddled with bullet holes. Dorian moved through the smoke-filled corridors like a phantom, his polished leather shoes crunching over broken glass.
Three of Vale's enforcers turned the corner, assault rifles raised.
"Are you lost in my home?" Dorian asked quietly.
Before the men could even register his location in the smoke, Dorian fired three times in rapid succession. The suppressed weapon made little noise, but the three men dropped instantly, dead before they hit the floor. Dorian stepped over their bodies, his angular face a mask of cold, calculating wrath.
He fought his way to the grand foyer, the center of the siege. Dozens of heavily armed men were pinned behind the champagne velvet chairs and overturned walnut tables. At the center of the chaos stood Lucinda’s father, Victor Vale, screaming orders at his men.
Dorian stepped out from the shadows of the grand staircase, entirely exposed, a lone king facing an invading army.
"Did you think you could burn my house down and walk away, Victor?" Dorian’s deep, measured voice cut through the deafening roar of gunfire.
Every weapon in the room instantly turned toward him. Fifty barrels aimed directly at his chest. Victor Vale sneered, stepping forward over the ruined white roses scattered on the floor.
"You disrespected my daughter! You broke an oath!" Victor roared. "You die tonight, Dorian!"
Dorian did not flinch. He did not raise his weapon. He simply stood there, a monolithic force of nature, his refined hand tattoos resting casually at his sides. He looked at the army of men, then looked directly into Victor's furious eyes.
"Are you absolutely certain my men are the only ones standing in this room?" Dorian asked.
Suddenly, the laser sights of two dozen sniper rifles pierced through the shattered windows, painting red dots across the chests and foreheads of every single Vale enforcer in the foyer. The shadows in the corners of the room shifted as Dorian's elite strike team, heavily armed and wearing tactical gear, materialized from the hidden servant passages.
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The trap had been sprung.
"Did you truly believe I would let them take what is mine?" Dorian asked, a cold, terrifying smile finally touching his lips as the red dots settled on his enemies.
