Chapter 6 - The Siege of Chestnut Hill
“Viktor!” Constantine roared into the dead receiver.
He slammed the phone down, spinning toward the desk and hitting a large red button on the wall panel.
Instantly, heavy steel blast shutters slammed down over every window on the ground floor of the mansion with a deafening metallic screech. The ambient lights in the basement turned into a deep, pulsing crimson as the estate’s automated defense system engaged.
“Get upstairs,” Constantine ordered Josie, his voice devoid of panic, replaced by terrifying tactical precision. “Get Mila into the safe room behind the master closet. Lock the door from the inside and do not open it for anyone except me.”
“What about you?” Josie demanded, her heart pounding against her ribs.
Constantine opened a heavy iron wall locker, pulling out two tactical assault rifles, three spare magazines, and a body armor vest.
“I’m going to make sure no one reaches that staircase,” he said flatly, throwing the vest over his shoulders and pulling the zipper tight.
Josie didn't argue. She bolted out of the basement, her bare feet flying up the stone stairs, taking them three at a time until she reached the second-floor corridor.
The mansion was filled with the deafening sound of alarms.
She slammed into Mila’s bedroom.
The little girl was sitting upright in the center of the canopy bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, her blue eyes wide with primal terror. The red pulsing lights from the hallway cast long, sinister shadows across her bedroom wall.
“Josie!” Mila cried out—not a whisper this time, but a full, desperate scream.
Josie ran to the bed, pulling the child into her arms, lifting her up against her chest. “I’ve got you, baby! I’ve got you!”
Outside the mansion, the heavy iron gates at the perimeter were torn off their hinges with a violent metallic roar. The thunder of heavy engines roared across the front driveway, followed by the shattering sound of heavy glass as armed men breached the rear conservatory.
Gunfire erupted on the ground floor—the deep, rhythmic boom of Constantine’s rifle answering the rapid fire of submachine guns.
Josie carried Mila into the master bedroom, sliding behind the hidden panel in the walk-in closet that led into the reinforced steel safe room. She hit the closure switch. The thick steel door slid shut, sealing them inside the soundproof, climate-controlled vault.
Inside, the sounds of battle were muffled into faint, distant thuds.
Mila buried her face in Josie’s neck, her small body shaking violently with sob after sob.
“The bad men,” Mila wept, her small hands clutching the collar of Josie’s shirt. “They came back for Mommy’s box.”
Josie pulled back slightly, setting Mila down on a leather bench inside the safe room. “What did you say, sweetie? What box?”
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Mila reached under her wool sweater. Hanging around her neck by a thin leather cord was a small silver key—a key shaped exactly like the blade of the Voss family crest.
“Mommy hid it,” Mila whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Under the floor in the garden house. She said if the silver-haired man ever came back... I had to give it to Papa.”
