Chapter 7 - The Garden District Showdown
The recovery of Elena Serrano triggered an immediate, ruthless purge within the Serrano organization.
By 3:00 AM, the estate was placed on absolute lockdown. Dominic’s most loyal enforcers—men brought in from his legitimate transport shipping company—had swept through the property, disarming every security guard hired by Reyes.
Inside the grand estate living room, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Elena was resting upstairs under the care of a private doctor Dominic had flown in via helicopter. Reyes sat bound to a heavy wooden chair in the center of the room, his face bruised, his clothes torn.
Dominic sat in a leather armchair opposite him, swirling a glass of scotch. Zora stood near the fireplace, dressed in a clean, plain black sweater and trousers provided by the estate staff. Buster lay peacefully at her feet, his wounded flank cleaned and bandaged by the doctor.
"The Chicago syndicate isn't going to let this go, Dominic," Reyes spat, coughing up blood onto the Persian rug. "They know you were planning to go legitimate. They know you were selling off the port terminals. They hired me to take your sister so they could force you to sign over the distribution lines. Even if you kill me, their assault team is coming."
Dominic didn't even blink. "They're already here."
As if on cue, the muffled sound of silenced gunfire echoed from the front perimeter gates.
Zora’s head snapped toward the window. Outside, through the heavy rain, dark shadows were moving across the front lawn toward the estate’s main entrance.
"Zora, get upstairs to Elena," Dominic commanded instantly, standing up and drawing his weapon. "Stay in the panic room until this is finished."
"No," Zora said, her voice firm, causing Dominic to look at her in surprise. "The panic room's ventilation system routes through the basement. If they throw tear gas or smoke grenades into the lower floor, you'll trap her in a tomb."
Dominic stared at her, realizing the incredible tactical clarity this quiet woman possessed. "Where do we put her?"
"The third-floor linen vault," Zora said without hesitation. "It’s reinforced steel behind a faux wood panel, with an independent air filter. Nobody knows it exists except the cleaning staff."
Dominic nodded sharply. "Do it. Take two of my guards with you."
Before Zora could turn to leave, a heavy glass window in the formal dining room shattered. Loud, metallic thuds echoed through the hallway—tactical smoke canisters bouncing across the marble floors.
"They're inside!" a guard shouted from the foyer.
Panic erupted. Automatic gunfire shattered the quiet elegance of the mansion. Drywall exploded, antique vases smashed into thousands of pieces, and thick white smoke began billowing down the grand hallway.
Zora didn't hesitate. "Buster, with me!" she called out.
She sprinted toward the main staircase, dodging past two guards who were returning fire down the corridor. Buster ran at her heels, his teeth bared, his eyes sharp.
They reached the second floor just as a masked hitman in full tactical gear crested the secondary service stairs. The man raised a suppressed submachine gun, aiming straight for the hall leading to Elena’s room.
"Hey!" Zora screamed, grabbing a heavy brass floor lamp from the corridor and swinging it with all her strength.
The heavy metal base smashed into the side of the gunman's helmet, sending him stumbling back against the wall. Before he could recover his balance, Buster leaped into the air, clamping his jaws onto the gunman's tactical vest, dragging him violently down the wooden stairs.
Zora rushed into Elena’s room. Elena was sitting up in bed, trembling violently as the sounds of battle echoed through the walls.
"We have to move! Now!" Zora urged, helping Elena out of bed and throwing a thick wool blanket over her shoulders.
They navigated the smoke-filled upper hallway, staying low to the ground to avoid the choking chemicals drifting up from the foyer. Zora guided Elena into the small service closet on the third floor, pushed aside stacked linen shelves, and pressed a hidden latch on the wall.
A heavy steel door slid open quietly—the estate's hidden linen vault.
"Get inside," Zora instructed, helping Elena step over the threshold. "Don't open this door for anyone except me or your brother."
"What about you?" Elena cried, gripping Zora’s hand tightly.
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"I have to make sure Dominic survives this night," Zora said softly.
She pulled the heavy steel door shut, locking it from the outside just as the main doors of the second-floor gallery were blown off their hinges by an explosive charge.
