Chapter 6 - The Siege of Grayhaven
The heavy iron bulkhead doors of Grayhaven House hissed shut with a sound like a guillotine dropping, sealing the east wing from the rest of the mansion.
Downstairs, the automated security system had triggered Protocol Nine. Within thirty seconds, thick, odorless medical-grade knockout gas flooded the lower corridors, dropping Viktor’s mercenaries before they even reached the grand staircase.
Through the security monitors in the east wing, we watched the feed as half of the invading force collapsed against the marble floor of the foyer like felled timber.
“Clever,” Marcus muttered, watching the monitors from the desk. “They thought they were walking into an empty tomb. They didn't realize the tomb had teeth.”
“Viktor and Sterling anticipated the automated systems,” Damian noted, pointing at one of the side monitors where two figures in gas masks were cutting through the reinforced service elevator shaft using a plasma torch. “They’re taking the old maintenance lift straight up to the second-floor corridor. They bypass the gas entirely.”
I stood near the bed, gently shaking Lila awake and wrapping her in her yellow rain jacket. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, looking around the darkened room with confusion.
“Mommy? Are we playing hide and seek?” she signed quietly, her little hands moving with sleepy grace.
“Yes, sweetheart,” I signed back, my heart breaking at how calm she was compared to the terror gripping my chest. “We’re going to play a very quiet game with Mr. Volkov. Stay right behind me, okay?”
Damian walked over, kneeling down in front of Lila. He didn't speak—he knew she couldn't hear his voice without her device turned all the way up, but he placed his hand gently over his heart, then pointed to her, communicating safety in the universal language of survival. Lila blinked, studying his intense face, then reached out and patted his cheek with her small hand.
Damian closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, absorbing the touch like a dying man drinking water in the desert. Then he stood up, turning to Marcus and me.
“The maintenance lift opens right into the portrait gallery at the end of the east hallway,” Damian said, checking the magazine of his pistol. “If they make it out of that lift, they’ll have a clear line of sight straight to this door. Marcus, take position behind the marble pillar in the hallway. Crossfire is our only advantage.”
“And you, boss?” Marcus asked, eyeing Damian’s bandaged shoulder.
“I’m going to meet them in the gallery,” Damian said coldly.
“Like hell you are!” I snapped, stepping forward before I could stop myself. “You’re still recovering from acute poisoning and a gunshot wound! You’ll bleed out before you reach the second door!”
Damian stopped, turning to look at me with a mix of surprise and deep, unfathomable warmth.
“Elena,” he said softly, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of me. “For forty years, I’ve let everyone around me die so that I could survive. If I sit in this room and let you and your daughter take a bullet for my mistakes, then I’m already dead.”
Before I could argue, a loud, metallic CLANG echoed from the eastern hallway.
The service elevator doors had blown open.
“They’re here,” Marcus whispered, raising his submachine gun and slipping out into the hallway, silently taking cover behind the marble pillar.
Damian gave me one last lingering look, then pulled a heavy iron key from his pocket and pressed it into my hand.
“If things go wrong,” Damian whispered fiercely, “use the private panic room built behind the wardrobe. The code is four-eight-two-nine. Lock yourselves inside and don't come out until the sun comes up.”
May you like
Before I could answer, Damian slipped out into the hallway, pulling the east wing door half-shut behind him.
I stood in the dim bedroom, holding Lila tightly against my skirt, listening to the first thunderous crack of gunfire echoing through the marble corridor outside.
