Chapter 6 - Night at the Estate
A torrential downpour hit the city, masking the sound of footsteps on the estate’s outer perimeter. The power to the main mansion suddenly cut out, plunging the grand halls into total darkness.
In her second-floor bedroom, Sorrel woke up to the silence of the ceiling fan stopping. The subtle hum of the house was gone. Outside her door, she heard a soft, muffled thud—the sound of a night security guard collapsing after being struck by a silenced tranquilizer dart.
Fear clutched Sorrel's chest. For a second, the phantom weight of the heavy iron chain felt cold around her ankle again. She began to hyperventilate, tears pricking her eyes.
“Crawl faster...” Pamela’s cruel voice echoed in her memory.
"No," Sorrel whispered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut. She looked at her ankle—there was no iron there now, only a neat white bandage. She looked at her wrist—the smartwatch was gone, but in her hands was a small emergency walkie-talkie her father had given her.
"Daddy told me I'm not a victim anymore," she whispered, her voice growing steady. "I'm a Vance."
She slid out of bed softly, gripping the walkie-talkie. Instead of hiding under the bed like she used to, she crept over to the bedroom door and locked it. Then, she pulled down the hidden attic ladder inside her closet—a secret nook her father had shown her years ago.
Downstairs, Arthur Vance’s hired mercenaries stepped through the shattered glass of the patio doors, night-vision goggles strapped to their tactical helmets.
"Find the kid," the leader whispered into his comms. "Quietly. Grab her and get to the extraction van."
They moved up the grand staircase like shadows. But as the lead operative reached the top of the stairs, a blinding beam of light slammed into his vision, frying his night-vision gear. He shrieked, clutching his eyes as he fell backward down the stairs.
May you like
Hadrian stood at the top of the landing, a heavy tactical flashlight in one hand and a steel reinforcement bar in the other. He hadn't been downtown at all—he had anticipated Arthur’s desperation the moment the financial warrants were issued.
"You entered the wrong house," Hadrian said, his voice echoing like thunder in the dark foyer.
