Chapter 6 - Smoke and Steel
The concussive blast of the breaching charge shook the subterranean walls, raining a fine powder of drywall dust over Dominic’s custom computer consoles.
Emma didn't flinch. Her hand hovered over the matte-black Sig Sauer resting on the polished mahogany desk. The metal felt cold, heavy, and terrifyingly real—a far cry from the cleaning rags and dusting sprays that had defined her existence for the past three years.
“Take the grip high,” Dominic instructed, his voice slicing cleanly through the ringing in their ears from the explosion. His dark eyes were locked on the security monitors, tracking the infrared heat signatures spilling through the breached outer corridor. “Keep your finger off the trigger until your sights are aligned with a target. Richard’s men aren't here to negotiate hostages; they’re here to sanitize the room.”
Emma wrapped her fingers around the textured grip, adjusting her stance as best as her swollen knee allowed. “And you?”
Dominic reached beneath the armrest of his wheelchair, sliding a customized, shortened submachine gun free from its hidden magnetic mount. The motion was fluid, practiced, and terrifyingly efficient.
“I’m not planning on dying in my own basement, Emma,” he murmured, a dangerous, cold smile touching his lips. “Especially not before I find out why my cousin chose today to commit suicide.”
Outside the heavy steel door, heavy combat boots stomped across the hallway tile. Shouted orders bounced off the concrete walls—tactical jargon mixed with the clatter of rifle slings and plate carriers.
“Clear the intersection! Door four is breached! Move, move, move!”
The electronic keypad beside the reinforced office door sparked violently as a high-voltage surge fried the locking mechanism. The heavy steel panel groaned, bowing inward under a concentrated assault.
Dominic didn't wait for them to kick it open. He spun his wheelchair around, raised his weapon toward the upper corner of the wall where a hidden pneumatic relay was housed, and fired three suppressed rounds.
May you like
Hiss.
With a deafening pneumatic sigh, the room’s emergency halogen floodlights died, plunging the underground command center into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
