Chapter 2 - The Empty Hallways
By 8:00 PM, the Arizona sun had dropped below the horizon, plunging the desert estate into a deep, velvety blackness pierced only by the harsh glare of security floodlights.
The compound was entirely silent. The fifty-acre property, usually humming with the quiet logistics of a syndicate empire, felt cavernous and abandoned. Marcus had successfully slipped Selena and Ruby out through the southern drainage culvert twenty minutes ago, accompanied by two armed scouts.
Damon sat in the high-backed leather chair at the center of the main library. A single brass desk lamp illuminated the map of Phoenix spread before him, casting long, dramatic shadows across the mahogany bookshelves.
He didn't turn on the overhead lights. He wanted them to think he was waiting in the dark.
The heavy oak door of the library creaked open.
Marco Reyes stepped inside, his face pale, a suppressed nervous energy radiating from every movement. He was Damon’s cousin, younger by five years, a man who had survived the violent rise of the syndicate by staying close to the throne.
“Marcus and the girl are clear of the perimeter,” Marco said, his voice dropping low as he closed the door behind him. “The scouts are in position at the west gate. But Damon... this is insane. If the Delgatos are really coming, we should have evacuated the entire compound. Why are we sitting ducks in the main house?”
“Because if we scatter, they hunt us down one by one across the desert,” Damon replied calmly, not looking up from the map. “If we stay here, we force them to come through the front door. I want to know who’s giving the orders.”
“Orders?” Marco scoffed nervously, pacing across the Persian rug. “You think this is a hit squad? The Delgatos have been quiet for three years. Since the federal RICO sweep, they don't have the manpower for a frontal assault on this estate.”
“They don't need manpower if they have an inside track,” Damon said sharply, finally lifting his head. His dark eyes locked onto his cousin. “Someone told them where the blind spots in our perimeter were. Someone told them the guard rotation changed at 6:00 PM.”
Marco stopped pacing. The silence in the room suddenly grew heavy, charged with an unspoken accusation.
“Are you saying... someone on our payroll leaked the rotation?” Marco asked, his voice tightening.
“I’m saying,” Damon stood up slowly, towering over the desk, “that a three-year-old child walked into a high-level strategic meeting today carrying a pink suitcase because her mother received a phone call telling her the house was about to burn. The men in that conference room were my inner circle, Marco. Only three people outside of myself knew the exact layout of today's meeting.”
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Before Marco could answer, the security monitors on the wall flickered violently, and every light in the mansion clicked off at once.
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