Chapter 7 - The Bloody Gala
The night of the Ashworth Grand Gala arrived. The hotel lobby had been fully restored, the grand gilded mirror replaced with an even more magnificent one, completely erasing any sign of the violence that had occurred weeks prior.
The city’s elite arrived in droves, desperate to stay on Royce Calloway’s good side. Royce stood at the top of the marble staircase, looking immaculate in a midnight-black tuxedo. He played the part of the powerful tycoon perfectly, greeting senators and foreign investors with a polite, mask-like smile.
Meanwhile, at the Calloway Estate, the atmosphere was dark. Royce had intentionally left the estate looking vulnerable, drawing Enzo Moretti’s strike team into a trap.
At 10:00 PM, three armored vans breached the estate’s outer gates. Thomas Moretti and Harlan Vance led twenty armed mercenaries into the grand foyer, their weapons drawn.
"Find the girl!" Harlan shouted, his eyes manic. "Find her and bring her to me!"
They kicked open the doors to the master bedroom, expecting to find a defenseless pregnant woman. Instead, they found the room completely empty, save for a single laptop sitting on the nightstand.
The laptop screen flickered to life, displaying a live video feed of Royce Calloway sitting in his office at the hotel.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Royce’s voice echoed through the laptop speakers, cold and mocking. "Did you really think my intelligence network was so fragile?"
Thomas Moretti cursed, firing a burst of bullets into the laptop. "It’s a trap! Fall back!"
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But before they could reach the exit, the heavy steel security shutters slammed down over every window and door of the mansion, sealing them inside a concrete tomb. The vents began to hiss, releasing a thick, non-lethal incapacitating gas.
Within minutes, the entire strike team collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
