Chapter 28
The main floor of the Moretti estate was a chaotic, terrifying symphony of violence.
The grand crystal chandeliers flickered and exploded as stray bullets tore through the opulent living spaces. The pristine marble floors were covered in shattered glass, splintered wood, and the bodies of fallen mercenaries.
Gabriel moved through the chaos like an apex predator returning to his natural habitat.
He didn't fight with the wild, desperate energy of his youth; he fought with the cold, calculated precision of a king defending his castle. With his assault rifle raised, he cleared the grand hallway, dropping three Romanov mercenaries before they even realized he was there.
Bruno and the surviving estate guards were holding the line near the grand staircase, exchanging heavy fire with a dozen hostiles taking cover behind overturned velvet sofas in the formal sitting room.
"Boss!" Bruno yelled over the din of gunfire, reloading his weapon behind a marble pillar. "They’re pushing hard on the west wing! They know the bunker entrance is somewhere in the sub-basement!"
"Hold the stairs!" Gabriel ordered, sliding into cover beside his head of security. "We bottleneck them here in the foyer. They can't flank us without exposing themselves to the upper gallery."
For twenty agonizing minutes, the firefight raged. The air grew thick with gray smoke and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Gabriel’s tactical brilliance held the line, his precise, lethal shots neutralizing the advancing mercenaries one by one.
Suddenly, the relentless hail of enemy gunfire began to falter. The deafening roar of automatic weapons sputtered into confused, sporadic bursts.
Gabriel held his fire, peering cautiously around the marble pillar.
The Romanov mercenaries were checking their phones. A collective murmur of confusion and panic rippled through their ranks.
Rachel’s financial hack had hit.
The mercenaries, hired guns who fought strictly for profit, had just received notification that their secure escrow accounts had been completely drained. Their paychecks were gone.
"They're realizing they aren't getting paid," Bruno grunted, a grim smile touching his blood-spattered face.
The mercenaries looked at one another, then looked at the heavily fortified staircase held by Gabriel Moretti. With no money on the line, loyalty evaporated instantly.
One by one, the mercenaries lowered their weapons. They backed away slowly toward the shattered front doors, turning their backs on the fight and abandoning the estate.
Within five minutes, the grand foyer was eerily quiet, save for the crackle of a small fire burning in a ruined armchair.
Gabriel stood up, keeping his rifle raised, scanning the smoke-filled room. The battle was won, but the war wasn't over.
"Bruno, secure the perimeter and extinguish the fires," Gabriel commanded. "Where is Vanessa?"
Before Bruno could answer, a slow, mocking clap echoed from the upper gallery.
Gabriel’s head snapped up.
Standing on the second-floor landing, looking down at the ruined foyer, was Vanessa Bellini. She wore a sleek black tactical suit, her blonde hair pulled back tightly, holding a suppressed pistol in her hand.
"Very impressive, Gabriel," Vanessa sneered, her voice echoing in the vast, shattered space. "You always did have a talent for surviving impossible odds. But you forgot one crucial detail."
Gabriel raised his rifle, aiming directly at her chest. "It’s over, Vanessa. Your mercenaries abandoned you. Your Russian allies are bankrupt. Surrender."
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"I didn't come here to win a war, Gabriel," Vanessa said, a twisted, manic light burning in her blue eyes. "I came here to make you hurt."
She raised her pistol, not aiming it at Gabriel, but aiming it directly at the massive, crystal chandelier hanging precariously by a single, weakened steel cable directly above Gabriel’s head.
