Chapter 14 - The Siege at midnight
A flash-bang grenade rolled across the hardwood floor, detonating with a blinding white flash and a concussive roar that threw Elena violently to the ground.
Ears ringing, vision swimming in white spots, Elena scrambled behind the heavy mahogany desk on her hands and knees.
Through the haze of smoke and drifting glass, two men dressed in black tactical gear breached the library, their carbines equipped with red laser sights.
Crack-crack-crack.
Marcus fired three precise rounds from behind the marble fireplace, dropping the lead intruder instantly. The second man dove behind the grand piano, returning fully automatic fire that ripped through the antique bookshelves, sending shredded paper and splintered oak raining across the room.
"Elena! Go through the service lift behind the bookshelf!" Marcus shouted over the deafening gunfire, emptying his magazine to suppress the shooter. "Leo's upstairs with Mrs. Gable—get them into the panic room!"
Elena didn't hesitate. She scrambled through the concealed paneling behind the law library, sliding into the narrow service corridor. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she sprinted up the spiral stairs in the dark, guided only by the distant flashes of gunfire downstairs.
She reached the third floor and burst into the nursery.
The room was tossed. Mrs. Gable, the elderly housekeeper, was lying semi-conscious near the crib, clutching a bleeding head wound.
The crib was empty.
Elena’s soul dropped into an abyss of pure panic. "Leo!"
A cold voice spoke from the shadows near the corner terrace door.
"Looking for your boy, sweetheart?"
Madeline stood in the doorway, wearing a heavy trench coat, holding Leo strapped securely against her chest inside a reinforced carrier. Behind her stood two private security contractors, their suppressed pistols aimed straight at Elena’s heart.
"You brought mercenaries into a private residence," Elena whispered, raising her empty hands while taking a calculated step forward. "You’ve completely lost your mind."
"Mercenaries?" Madeline laughed, a dry, aristocratic sound. "I brought private extraction specialists to retrieve my family's stolen property. The local police won't arrive for twenty minutes—my men cut the fiber lines two miles down the road."
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Madeline stepped onto the outdoor terrace, where the heavy downdraft of an approaching helicopter began whipping the tree branches into a frenzy.
"Shoot her," Madeline ordered casually over her shoulder, turning toward the helipad. "Make it look like crossfire from the break-in."
