Chapter 7 - The Siege of Westchester
The SUV tore down the highway at over one hundred miles per hour, its tires screaming against wet asphalt. Inside, the air was suffocatingly tense. I sat in the back seat, holding my weapon in a tight grip, my eyes fixed on the rain-streaked windshield.
"Security feeds just re-connected through back-up satellite!" Vincent called out from the front seat, looking at his tablet. "Boss... they're inside."
My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. "Show me."
Vincent handed the tablet to the back. On the screen, grainy infrared footage showed four dark vehicles parked in the main courtyard of my estate. The grand oak front doors had been blown inward with door-breaching explosives. Multiple armed men were moving through the main hallway.
"Where are Sarah and Emma?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm.
"Mrs. Gable triggered the emergency vault doors in the master suite," Vincent reported, scanning the camera feeds. "They're locked inside the reinforced panic room on the second floor. But Russo's men brought heavy thermite torches. They're cutting through the vault door right now."
"How long until they break through?"
"Ten minutes. Maybe less."
"We're seven minutes away," I said, looking out at the dark trees whizzing past. "Vincent, call the tactical team. We aren't going through the front gate. We're breaching through the southern forest line."
Seven minutes felt like seven centuries.
When our convoy reached the perimeter of the estate, we turned off our headlights and plowed through the wooden fence along the southern border, bringing the heavy vehicles to a silent stop beneath the thick canopy of trees.
I jumped out of the vehicle before it had even fully stopped, my weapon raised.
"No survivors among Russo's core team," I commanded my men softly. "Secure the perimeter. I am going upstairs."
We moved across the rear lawn like ghosts. The back glass patio had been shattered. Inside, the grand house was filled with smoke, the smell of burnt gunpowder, and the harsh, blinding glow of thermite torches coming from the upper floor.
Two of Russo's guards were patrolling the bottom of the grand staircase.
Before they could turn around, I fired two silent shots, dropping them instantly. I took the stairs three at a time, my heart pounding in my ears like a war drum.
On the second-floor landing, six men were gathered around the heavy steel vault door. Sparks were flying everywhere as a thermite torch hissed violently, melting the iron lock casing. Standing right behind them, wearing a heavy mink coat and holding a cigar, was Don Russo himself.
"Hurry up with that torch!" Russo barked at his operator. "I want the woman and the kid out here before Vance gets back from the docks!"
"You're too late, Russo," I said, stepping into the hallway.
Russo froze. He spun around, his cigar dropping to the floor.
His men tried to raise their weapons, but my team erupted into action from the stairwell behind me. A violent exchange of gunfire shattered the pristine hallway. Plaster rained down like snow, crystal wall sconces shattered, and heavy paintings collapsed from the walls.
I didn't take cover. I moved forward with absolute, terrifying precision, firing with deadly accuracy. One, two, three of Russo's men fell within seconds. Vincent swept in from the left flank, disarming the torch operator and neutralizing the remaining guards.
Within less than sixty seconds, the hallway fell completely silent, save for the crackle of the lingering thermite spark and the sound of heavy breathing.
Russo was backed up against the smoking steel vault door, his hands shaking, a small pistol clutching in his trembling fingers.
"Vance..." Russo stammered, sweat pouring down his pale face. "Listen to me... this was a misunderstanding... Petrov pushed me into this!"
I walked up to him slowly, stepping over the debris. I grabbed his gun hand, twisted it effortlessly until the weapon dropped, and slammed him against the wall.
"You came into my home," I whispered, my eyes burning with an ancient, murderous fury. "You targeted a child."
"Please..." Russo choked out, his arrogance completely shattered. "I have money... millions... take whatever you want! Just let me walk away!"
"There is no amount of money in the world that can buy your life tonight," I said coldly.
I didn't kill him. Death was too easy. Instead, I struck him sharply across the temple with the butt of my gun, knocking him unconscious, and let his heavy body collapse to the floor.
"Vincent," I said, without looking back. "Hand Russo over to the Federal Bureau along with Marcus Sterling's complete unredacted ledgers. Let him spend the rest of his miserable life in a federal supermax facility."
"Understood, Boss," Vincent replied, signaling our men to drag Russo away.
I turned to the burning steel vault door. The thermite had melted the outer frame, but the heavy emergency override handle was still intact. I pulled on my heavy leather gloves, grabbed the hot metal handle, and cranked it open with all my strength.
The heavy door creaked open, revealing the dark, secure panic room inside.
In the far corner, huddled under a thick blanket, sat Sarah, holding Emma tightly in her arms. Mrs. Gable stood in front of them holding an antique iron fire poker.
When the light spilled into the room, Sarah looked up, her eyes wide with terror—until she saw me standing in the doorway, my face covered in soot, my coat torn, but alive.
"Matt!" Sarah cried out, letting go of the blanket and running toward me.
She threw her arms around my neck, sobbing uncontrollably. I wrapped my heavy arms around her, pulling her close, feeling her shaking body slowly calm down against mine.
"You're safe," I whispered into her hair. "It's over. It's all over."
Emma walked out slowly, clutching the silver watch. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears, and held out her small hand.
May you like
"You kept your promise," she whispered.
I dropped to one knee, pulled Emma into my arms along with Sarah, and held them both tightly against my heart as the morning sun began to bleed through the shattered windows of the manor.
