Chapter 57 - The Second Strike
I walked out of the prison into the biting afternoon rain, my mind churning with the full scope of our father's cowardice. Marcus Harrington had not only abused and alienated his sons; he had left a ticking landmine buried beneath our feet, waiting for the moment we thought we were safe.
My phone rang as I reached my SUV. It was Miller.
"Brian, get back here now," Miller said, his voice clipped and strained over the sound of heavy wind and wailing sirens.
"What happened?"
"They didn't wait for nine o'clock," Miller reported, background noise exploding with shouting guards. "A drone strike just targeted our secondary power transformer on the north ridgeline. The estate's grid is down. We're on isolated auxiliary power."
"Emily and Leo?" I snarled, slamming the door and gunning the engine, throwing the SUV into reverse.
"They’re safe in the panic bunker below the wine cellar," Miller replied. "Reinforced steel and three-inch ballistic plate. No breach on the perimeter yet, but Castille wasn't looking to wait for a polite meeting at the Navy Yard. He was probing our defenses."
"I’m twenty minutes out," I commanded. "Shoot anything that crosses the tree line."
I tore down Route 2 at breakneck speed, dodging through commuter traffic while the storm worsened. Marcus had spent his entire life running, deflecting, and sacrificing others to protect his vanity. He had sacrificed my mother, he had corrupted Jason, and he had treated me like a disposable failure because I refused to be his puppet.
Now, an aristocratic mobster from Marseille thought he could harvest my wife and son to balance an old man's ledger.
May you like
As I took the winding curves up the mountain toward our estate, my headlights caught a black SUV parked across the access road, blocking both lanes. Two men in tactical rain gear stood beside it, their submachine guns raised directly at my windshield.
They weren't here to negotiate. They were here to ensure I never made it home.
