Chapter 8 - The Shadow at the Gate
While the drama unfolded in Manhattan, a quiet, terrifying threat was approaching the Romano estate in Brooklyn.
At 8:30 PM, the heavy rain had turned into a thick, blinding fog that blanketed the estate's grounds.
Inside the secure underground vault, I was pacing the floor, holding Ava against my shoulder. The monitor feeds had suddenly gone static-gray two minutes ago—a sign that someone had cut the estate's external communication wires.
BZZZT.
The internal landline phone on the wall rang sharply.
I rushed over and picked up the receiver. "Dominic?!"
"Claire! It’s Marcus!" a strained, panicked voice came over the line. "Vance’s security chief, Kaelen, bypassed our outer perimeter during the storm! He’s inside the main house with three men! They’ve overridden the elevator controls!"
My blood ran ice-cold. "What about the vault?!"
"The vault door is reinforced steel, but they brought a thermal cutting torch!" Marcus shouted over the sound of gunfire on his end. "Don't open that door for anyone except Dominic or me! I’m sending our backup team down the stairwell now—"
BANG!
The line went dead.
"Marcus?!" I screamed into the receiver. Nothing but static answered.
I slammed the phone back onto the wall hook. Ava began to cry loudly, sensing my absolute terror.
"Shh... baby, quiet, please, quiet," I whispered frantically, backing into the far corner of the vault, behind the heavy steel desk.
Five minutes passed in suffocating silence.
Then, a sickening HISS echoed through the room.
At the top corner of the reinforced steel vault door, a bright, blinding orange spark burst through the metal. Smoke began to pour into the seams as a high-grade thermal torch began cutting a circle around the lock mechanism.
They were cutting through.
My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I looked around the room frantically. I was a cleaning woman, a mother who had spent her life running from shadows, but looking at my daughter sleeping in my arms, a sudden, blinding rage washed over me.
My mother had spent her life running from these monsters. I was done running.
I set Ava down inside a soft, cushioned supply crate in the absolute dark behind the heavy desk, covering her with a thick Kevlar vest from the storage rack.
"Stay quiet, my sweet girl," I whispered, kissing her hot forehead.
May you like
I walked over to the gun rack on the wall. I pulled a heavy steel tactical baton from the rack, flicking my wrist until the solid steel extended with a sharp CLACK.
I stood behind the door frame, hidden in the shadows, holding the steel baton high above my head, waiting for the metal to give way.
