Chapter 9
The blaring sirens tore through the elegant peace of the mansion, vibrating against the ivory-paneled walls. The red strobe lights painted Malcolm's angular face in a harsh, violent hue. Arthur Blake had not waited; the imprisonment of his daughter had ignited an immediate, brutal retaliation.
"Are the interior blast doors engaged?" Malcolm asked, pulling a heavy, customized automatic weapon from the safe with lethal, practiced precision.
"Engaging now, sir! But they have military-grade armor. We are returning fire, but they are pushing hard toward the main house!" the underboss shouted over the radio, the sound of automatic gunfire deafening in the background.
"Will you hold the grand foyer until I arrive?" Malcolm asked.
"We will hold the line, Mr. Vance!"
Malcolm released the radio button. He racked the slide of his weapon, the metallic clack echoing sharply in the large bedroom. He turned and looked at Nell. She was standing by the bed, her sophisticated black maid dress stark against the luxurious linens where Lucas lay sleeping, undisturbed by the muffled alarms thanks to the heavy soundproofing of the master suite. Nell’s expressive eyes were wide with fear, yet she remained entirely resolute. She was not running.
"Are you prepared to lock these heavy oak doors behind me?" Malcolm asked, walking toward her.
"Are you leaving us?" Nell cried out, panic finally lacing her American accent. "They have an army, Malcolm!"
She used his first name in her desperation, the formality dropping away in the face of imminent death.
"Will you survive running through a crossfire if I attempt to move you both now?" Malcolm asked bluntly, his imposing frame blocking the exit to the hallway.
"I can't just stay here and listen to them come for you!" Nell pleaded, stepping closer to him, her hands trembling.
Malcolm stared at the beautiful woman before him. She possessed a profound, quiet courage that completely eclipsed the shallow, venomous nature of the elites he normally dealt with. She was willing to stand in a gunfight to protect a child she barely knew.
"Are you willing to follow my exact orders to keep my son alive?" Malcolm asked, his cold eyes burning with a fierce, protective fire.
"Yes," Nell promised without hesitation.
"Will you lock this door, and open it for absolutely no one but me?" Malcolm asked, his voice a low, gravelly command.
"I promise," Nell whispered, tears spilling over her lower eyelids. "Please, come back to us."
"Do you think I would let them take me away from you now?" Malcolm asked, offering a faint, terrifying smile that promised absolute devastation to his enemies.
He didn't wait for her to answer. He turned and strode out of the master suite, stepping into the chaotic, flashing hallway. The bright, luminous colors of the mansion were gone, replaced by the chaotic strobe of emergency lights and the deafening, rhythmic staccato of heavy gunfire echoing from the eastern wing. The smell of cordite and burning wood filled the air.
Malcolm moved with absolute, predatory grace, his weapon raised, his observant eyes sweeping every corner and gilded mirror for threats. The engagement dinner had ended in a broken alliance, but the true war for the city had only just begun. Arthur Blake thought he was attacking a man who had broken an engagement; he was about to discover he had awakened a monster protecting his family.
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"Shall we show them exactly what it costs to threaten my home?" Malcolm asked the empty air.
He raised his weapon, stepping into the line of fire, ready to burn the world to ash as the final battle for the Vance empire erupted into absolute chaos.
