Chapter 7 - The Battle of the Vale Estate
Outside, the quiet evening forest exploded into lethal chaos.
Three armored black vans rammed through the heavy iron north gates of the estate, spilling twenty heavily armed mercenaries clad in tactical gear, carrying suppressed automatic rifles.
Leading the breach team was Nikolai Rostov—Marcus Rostov’s younger brother, a violent enforcer known for leaving no survivors.
"Find Vale!" Nikolai screamed in Russian, firing a burst into the glass doors of the conservatory. "Kill everyone in the house! Take the child!"
Suddenly, the floodlights surrounding the courtyard snapped on with a blinding white glare.
From the roofline and the stone balconies, Dominic’s security force—men trained in military logistics and tactical defense—opened disciplined, precise fire.
Pft. Pft. Pft.
Suppressed rifle fire tore through the courtyard. Four mercenaries fell instantly before they could even locate cover.
Dominic stepped out onto the grand stone terrace above the courtyard, wearing a heavy dark tactical vest, holding a sleek black carbine. He moved with cold, terrifying precision, clearing sightlines with practiced lethality.
Nikolai Rostov looked up, spotting Dominic through the muzzle flashes. "Vale!" he roared, raising his rifle.
Dominic didn't hesitate. He leaned over the balustrade, firing three rapid rounds.
Two bullets struck Nikolai’s tactical vest, knocking him backward off his feet, while the third caught him in the shoulder. Nikolai crashed onto the snow-covered cobblestones, groaning in agony as his remaining men scrambled toward their vehicles in sheer panic.
Within eight minutes, the breach team was entirely neutralized—half eliminated, the rest disarmed and pinned against the stone wall on their knees by Caleb’s men.
Dominic walked down the stone stairs, his leather boots crunching over the bloody snow. He stopped directly in front of Nikolai Rostov, who was clutching his bleeding shoulder, spitting blood onto the ground.
Dominic leveled his carbine directly at Nikolai’s head.
"Who paid you, Nikolai?" Dominic asked, his voice deathly quiet.
Nikolai sneered through the pain. "Go to hell, Vale! My brother will tear your family apart!"
Caleb stepped forward, holding a satellite tablet. "Boss, we just intercepted a wire transfer from a Panamanian account thirty minutes ago. Ten million dollars sent directly to Marcus Rostov’s operative account."
Caleb turned the screen toward Dominic.
The authorizing signature on the ten-million-dollar wire transfer was Harrison Bennett.
Dominic stared at the screen. A dark, terrifying smile touched his lips.
"Harrison Bennett hired a foreign syndicate to attack my home," Dominic murmured softly, lowering his rifle. "He brought a war to my front door."
Dominic turned to Caleb. "Lock these men in the subterranean holding cells. Call the police commissioner and tell him to bring federal prosecutors to the Bennett Development Tower in one hour."
"And Harrison Bennett?" Caleb asked.
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Dominic picked up his leather coat from a nearby guard booth, putting it on over his vest.
"I’m going to go collect his final resignation," Dominic spat.
