Chapter 4 - Shadows on the Second Floor
The first operative’s night-vision goggles cast a faint, emerald-green reflection across his tactical helmet as he swept the barrel of his suppressed rifle toward the second-floor gallery.
He never saw Ethan coming.
Ethan slammed bodily into the man’s side, driving him hard against the ornate mahogany wainscoting with a bone-crunching thud. The operative’s rifle clattered against the hardwood floor, skittering across the polish. Before the man could recover his balance or reach for his sidearm, Ethan delivered a lightning-fast palm strike to the base of his helmet, followed by a swift sweep of his leg that dropped the intruder to his knees.
A single, crisp punch to the jaw sent the operative sprawling unconscious onto the oriental runner.
"Target one down," Ethan muttered to himself, snatching the fallen operative’s encrypted tactical radio off his chest rig and shoving it into his pocket.
From the stairwell below, a sharp, raspy voice crackled over the open radio channel: "Apex-Two, status? Did you secure the package?"
Ethan didn't answer. He dragged the unconscious operative into a dark linen alcove, stripped the man’s tactical vest off, and quickly strapped it over his own shoulders, adjusting the straps with practiced familiarity. He picked up the dropped rifle, checked the magazine—fully loaded, 5.56 rounds—and racked the bolt back with a sharp, metallic clack.
If they wanted a war, they were going to get one on his terms.
A second later, heavy boots rounded the corner from the grand staircase. The second operative stepped onto the second-floor landing, his rifle raised at a low ready, sweeping the dark hallway.
"Apex-Two, respond. What’s your position?" the operative hissed, his voice clipped and urgent.
Ethan stepped out from the shadows near the hallway archway, keeping his helmet tilted down to obscure his face in the dim amber light of the emergency grid.
"Sector clear. Moving to check the east wing library," Ethan barked back, forcing his voice into a gravelly, authoritative tone that mirrored the radio chatter.
The second operative paused, his rifle dipping an inch. He squinted through his night-vision gear, noticing something slightly off about the stance and gear configuration. "Wait, where's your—"
He didn't get to finish the sentence.
Ethan closed the gap in a fraction of a second, bringing the heavy stock of his rifle up in a devastating arc that caught the operative squarely under the chin. The man let out a stifled gurgle, his eyes rolling back as his legs turned to rubber. Ethan caught him before he hit the floor, easing his heavy body down onto the carpet.
Two down. One left, plus Madison.
As if on cue, the muffled sound of high-heeled boots clicked rapidly against the marble floor of the foyer below, followed by an angry, breathless voice echoing up the stairwell.
"What is taking you idiots so long?!" Madison shrieked, her voice frantic and laced with sheer panic. "The federal marshals' ping must have hit Vance Global's network by now! If we don't find that flash drive and torch this entire estate within ten minutes, my father is going to cut all of us loose!"
"We're clearing the second floor now, Miss Vance," a third, deeper voice replied over the internal radio channel. It was the team leader, stationed near the base of the stairs. "Apex-Two and Three are securing the perimeter. Hold tight."
Ethan didn't wait. He moved silently down the second-floor hallway toward the back service corridor—the one leading directly down to the underground greenhouse shelter where Clara and Noah were hiding. He needed to verify they were secure before he dealt with the team leader and Madison.
The service corridor was pitch black, lit only by the faint red glow of the exit signs. Ethan jogged silently down the concrete steps, his tactical boots making almost no sound.
When he reached the heavy steel door of the greenhouse underground bunker, he paused. He pressed his ear against the cold metal.
Inside, he heard the faint, muffled sound of a child’s voice.
"Mommy? Is Daddy going to be okay?"
"He's going to be fine, Noah," Clara’s voice replied softly, trembling slightly but carrying a fierce, steady undercurrent of strength. "Your dad is the strongest man in the world."
A quiet smile touched Ethan’s lips. They were safe.
Suddenly, a loud, concussive BANG echoed from the main house above, followed by the sound of shattering glass and heavy shouting.
The team leader had realized his men weren't responding. They were escalating.
May you like
Ethan turned sharply, sprinting back up the service stairs toward the main house. He knew he couldn't hide anymore. He had to draw them out, neutralize the team leader, and cut the head off the snake before Madison and her rescuers could burn his legacy—and his family—to the ground.
---
