Chapter 7 - The Breach at River Hills
Two days later, the storm hit Milwaukee.
A brutal Midwestern thunderclap echoed across the thick woods of River Hills, pouring heavy torrential rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows of my estate.
It was 2:30 a.m.
I sat in the command monitoring room in the basement of the estate alongside Marcus. On the twin sixteen-inch monitors, forty live camera feeds showed the perimeter walls, the manicured gardens, and the winding concrete driveway.
Hannah had been discharged from the hospital six hours earlier under heavy security and was currently sleeping upstairs in the master guest suite, right beside the nursery where Sophie and the twins were fast asleep.
Suddenly, camera seven—covering the north perimeter fence near the pine forest—flickered with static and went completely black.
A second later, camera eight and camera nine cut out simultaneously.
"We have a wire-cut on the north gate," Marcus announced calmly, snapping his tactical headset on. "Thermal sensors indicate six armed targets moving through the treeline."
"Julian’s private mercenaries," I said, standing up and pulling my custom SIG Sauer 9mm handgun from the desk holster, checking the magazine with a sharp, professional click. "He knows the federal arrest warrant was signed three hours ago. He has nothing left to lose."
"Defensive positions?" Marcus asked.
"Contain them in the courtyard," I ordered. "Do not let a single round near the east wing guest suites. Execute Lockdown Protocol Alpha."
Across the estate, heavy steel security shutters rolled down automatically over every ground-floor window and door, sealing the interior of the mansion like an armored bank vault.
I walked quickly upstairs to the east wing.
Hannah was standing in the doorway of the nursery, wearing a dark sweater, holding a heavy iron fireplace poker she had grabbed from the hearth. Her face was pale, but her eyes were fierce with protective rage.
Inside the nursery, Sophie was awake, holding four-month-old Mason tight against her chest, while little Noah rested in his crib.
"Andrew!" Hannah whispered as I approached. "What’s happening?"
"Stay inside this room, lock the steel deadbolt behind me, and do not open it for anyone except me or Marcus," I commanded, handing her a spare tactical radio. "The shutters are reinforced steel. They can't blow through those doors with small arms."
Hannah grabbed my arm, her eyes wide with deep, intense concern. "Andrew... be careful. Please."
I looked into her eyes, touching her cheek gently with my free hand. "I’ve survived ten years of monsters, Hannah. Tonight, I clear the slate."
I stepped out into the hallway, heard the heavy deadbolt click shut behind me, and walked down the grand marble staircase toward the foyer.
Downstairs, the heavy oak front doors shuddered as a tactical breaching charge exploded against the lock mechanism.
BOOM!
Smoke and splinters showered into the grand foyer.
Four men in black tactical gear and night-vision goggles poured through the smoke, weapons raised at the ready.
They didn't get five feet.
Marcus and three of my senior security operatives opened fire from the second-floor balcony, their suppressed weapons spitting precise, lethal rounds. Three of the mercenaries dropped instantly against the marble floor.
The fourth mercenary scrambled back toward the shattered doorway, but I stepped out from behind a stone pillar, raising my weapon with calm, practiced efficiency.
Double tap.
The operative collapsed onto the wet driveway outside.
Silence descended upon the smoke-filled foyer, broken only by the sound of heavy rain pouring through the shattered front entrance.
Through the rain and smoke, a single figure walked slowly up the stone steps toward the shattered door.
Julian Vance stepped over his fallen operative, holding a small black electronic detonator in his left hand and a suppressed pistol in his right. He wore his beige trench coat, soaked with rain, his face contorted in a wild, unhinged sneer.
"Andrew!" Julian shouted over the sound of the thunder. "Did you really think a few steel shutters could keep me from what’s mine?!"
I stepped into the center of the foyer, holding my weapon low at my side.
"It’s over, Julian," I said, my voice echoing clearly across the marble. "Your mercenaries are dead. The FBI has seized your European bank accounts. The port equity is locked in probate court. You have nowhere left to run."
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Julian let out a bitter, manic laugh, raising the black detonator.
"I placed three pounds of C4 against the support pillars of your east wing foundation ten minutes ago, Andrew!" Julian screamed, his eyes bloodshot and wild. "If I press this button, the nursery collapses into the basement! Give me the girl and the brass key, or we all burn together!"
