Chapter 6 - Shadows in the Cellar
The silence that followed the blackout was suffocating. Marcus moved with practiced, predatory grace, crossing the room in two strides to retrieve a modified pistol from a hidden compartment behind a bookshelf. He handed Emma a small, sleek ceramic blade.
"Stay behind me, keep your head down, and don't make a sound," he commanded in a low, rhythmic whisper.
"What about Carter and the guards?" Emma whispered, her fingers curling tight around the hilt of the blade.
"Communication lines were severed remotely with an EMP blast," Marcus answered, checking the magazine chamber with a muted click. "Whoever is in the basement took out our perimeter grid without triggering the auxiliary generators. These aren't street thugs. These are Lucian’s personal cleaner units."
They moved down the dimly lit hallway toward the secondary escape elevator, using the shadows cast by the moon through high clerestory windows. Every nerve in Emma’s body was firing. Hours ago, she was worrying about bridal silk and wedding place settings; now she was stalking through a darkened corridor dodging tactical assassins.
A metallic scrape echoed from the service stairwell just ten feet away. Marcus threw out an arm, pressing Emma flat against the recessed alcove of a display cabinet. A dark silhouette emerged from the doorway, clad in tactical night-vision goggles and holding an automatic weapon with a heavy suppressor.
Before the intruder could scan the corridor, Marcus lunged. The violence was sudden, brutal, and utterly silent. Marcus seized the operative’s wrist, twisting the rifle barrel upward while driving an elbow into his throat. The man collapsed with a dull thud, unconscious before he touched the hardwood floor.
Marcus swiftly removed the operative's tactical radio, inserting an earpiece into his ear. Static hummed, followed by a crisp voice speaking in French: "Team Alpha, report. Have you located the Cross girl? The client wants her alive for the thumbprint verification. Kill the Vance heir on sight."
Marcus looked down at Emma, his eyes sharp and calculating. "They don't want you dead yet," he murmured. "They need your biometric scan to open Evelyn's sealed vault at the private depository downtown."
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"Then we let them think they have the upper hand," Emma said suddenly, surprising even herself with the cold resolve in her tone.
Marcus stared at her, a faint, dark smirk touching his lips. But before they could take another step toward the elevator, the heavy steel door of the master armory down the hall was blown off its hinges by a shaped thermite charge, illuminating the corridor in blinding, white-hot flames.
