Chapter 6 - INSIDE THE FORTRESS
The house was dark, silent, and cold when they tumbled through the heavy front door.
Gray locked the solid steel bar into place just as the first wave of Marcus’s vehicles roared up the stone path outside. The headlights cast long, terrifying shadows through the drawn living-room curtains.
In the kitchen, the black puppy was still sleeping peacefully in its cashmere nest, completely oblivious to the war raging on the other side of the oak door.
"Get down to the basement!" Gray ordered Ronan and Clara. "Take the dog!"
"I'm not leaving you up here alone," Clara said firmly, grabbing his left wrist. "You can barely stand, Gray. You’ve lost too much blood."
"I spent eight years preparing this house for a siege, Clara," Gray said, his amber-brown eyes locking onto hers with absolute intensity. "I know every square inch of this stone. Ronan, take her down to the server room behind the wine cellar. Plug that drive into the main terminal. If you can broadcast those files to the federal prosecutor in Denver before Marcus breaks down that door, this entire war ends tonight."
Clara looked at him for a long moment, seeing not the terrifying mafia boss her family had warned her about, but a wounded, exhausted man who had spent his entire life protecting things that couldn't protect themselves.
She leaned up and kissed his pale cheek—a gentle, warm gesture that smelled faintly of pine needles and snow.
"Don't die in his house, Gray," she whispered. "Live in yours."
She turned and ran down the basement stairs, with Ronan close behind carrying the tactical gear and Sera striding loyally at her flank.
Gray turned back to the heavy front door. Outside, the sound of megaphones and heavy boots echoed across the porch.
"Gray!" a loud, arrogant voice boomed through the wooden panels. It was Marcus Mercer—his half-brother, a man built on ambition, cruelty, and unearned wealth. "Open the door, little brother! Hand over the girl and the Vance drive, and I’ll let you die quickly! Keep holding out, and I’ll burn this mountain down with you inside it!"
Gray walked calmly to the counter, picked up his Glock with his left hand, and walked to the secondary security panel set into the fireplace mantel.
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He entered a six-digit code that he had never used before—the master override code his father had given him on his deathbed.
A deep, mechanical thrum echoed through the foundation of the house. From the ceiling beams, thick steel security shutters descended over every window and door, sealing the residence into an impenetrable black iron box.
