Chapter 2 - The Lockdown
The click of four tactical assault rifles clearing their safeties echoed like thunder across the banquet hall.
Guests screamed, scrambling beneath banquet tables and knocking over heavy oak chairs in a panicked frenzy to escape the line of fire. Wine glasses shattered, silver platters clattered against the stone floor, and the air instantly reeked of spilled champagne and raw fear.
The lead security officer, a massive man with a jagged scar running from his ear to his jawline, raised his weapon directly at Nico’s chest. "Step away from the drive, Mr. Vance. Hands where we can see them. Now."
Nico didn't flinch. He closed his fingers around the black USB, tucking it into his inner jacket pocket while keeping his left arm wrapped protectively around Vivia. He pulled her behind his broad frame, shielding her from the laser sights dancing across the floor.
"You're on my payroll, Davis," Nico said, his voice flat, dangerously calm. "Lower the rifles before I make sure you never work a private security contract in this state again."
Davis didn't lower his gun. A cold, smug grin touched the corner of the guard's mouth. "Check your account notifications, Nico. As of five o’clock this afternoon, the Vance board voted to transfer executive control to your sister. My firm works for Marcella now."
On the floor beside the ruined table, Marcella slowly pulled herself up. Blood trickled from the split corner of her mouth, staining the collar of her cream-colored gown, but the terror in her eyes had hardened into savage triumph.
"Did you really think I didn't have a contingency plan, Nico?" Marcella wheezed, wiping the blood from her lip with the back of her manicured hand. "Give Davis the drive, and I’ll let you and the bastard child walk out the back door alive. Refuse, and you’ll leave here in body bags labeled as an armed family dispute."
Rafe stepped up beside Nico, his jaw set, his eyes flashing with fury. "You sold out Dad's security team to cover your tracks, Marcella? You're out of your damn mind."
"Shut up, Rafe!" she snapped. "Davis, take the drive from him. Shoot his kneecaps if he twitches."
Davis took a heavy step forward, his finger curling around the trigger.
Vivia tugged desperately at Nico’s jacket from behind. "Nico, the cellar," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Mom installed the reinforced deadbolts last month. She knew this was coming."
Nico’s eyes darted toward the service corridor twenty feet to his right. In a split second, he made his move.
With blinding speed, Nico grabbed the edge of the heavy mahogany dessert table and flipped it on its side, sending tiers of brass stands, glassware, and heavy timber crashing directly into Davis and his team.
Pop! Pop!
Two rounds punched through the heavy wood, splinters flying into the air.
"Run!" Nico roared.
He scooped Vivia up in one arm, while Rafe lunged forward, tackling the second security guard to the ground, grabbing the man's radio, and scrambling back to join them. The three of them tore down the service corridor as a hail of gunfire ripped through the drywall behind them.
They reached the heavy steel fire door leading down to the private underground vault. Nico slammed the door shut, throwing the mechanical deadbolts into place just as a barrage of heavy caliber rounds slammed against the reinforced steel from the outside.
The heavy thuds shook the door frame, but the titanium locks held.
Panting in the dim emergency lighting of the corridor, Rafe collapsed against the wall, clutching his bruised ribs. "Jesus Christ, Nico. We're trapped down here. There’s no back exit from the sublevel."
Nico didn't answer. He pulled the black USB from his jacket, walked over to the terminal on the server desk in the center of the vault room, and slammed the drive into the USB port.
On the screen, a single crimson prompt flashed in bold, urgent letters:
ENTER 256-BIT MASTER OVERRIDE KEY. THREE ATTEMPTS REMAINING BEFORE PERMANENT AUTO-DESTRUCTION OF EVIDENCE.
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At that exact moment, the private radio Rafe had stolen crackled to life, and Marcella's voice hissed through the speaker:
"Enjoy your final minutes, little brother. I've just triggered the fire suppression halon gas in the basement vents. You have five minutes before the air runs out."
