Chapter 5 - Fire in the Sky
The crimson glare hissed fiercely, casting grotesque shadows across the walls. Dominic rolled across the floor just as a hail of suppressed gunfire chewed through the plaster behind him. He came up behind an overturned dining table, returning fire with lethal precision. The third operator dropped from the railing, tumbling into the dark alley below.
"Dominic!" Viktor’s voice roared from the hallway. A heavy shotgun blast echoed through the corridor, followed by the sound of boots stumbling and bodies collapsing. "More coming up the external fire escape! They aren't trying to breach the front—they're trying to contain the floor!"
Dominic checked his magazine. Seven rounds remaining. He looked toward the reinforced doorway of the panic room. The steel seam remained sealed, but he could hear the faint, muffled hum of Evans' surgical equipment working inside. Every second they wasted here was a second closer to Elena bleeding out or the tracker bringing an army to his doorstep.
Dominic sprinted across the open space, the crimson smoke from the flare burning his throat. He reached the master control panel beside the private elevator. If the attackers had bypassed the street security, they had insider access to the building's infrastructure. That meant someone in his own circle had traded his safety for a price.
He engaged the fire suppression system. Overhead sprinklers burst to life, showering the penthouse with freezing water, drowning the flare’s blinding smoke and turning the marble floor into a treacherous sheet of ice.
Through the mist, a shadow loomed near the broken terrace door. It was a man far larger than the others, wearing an unbuttoned trench coat over body armor, holding a heavy revolver. His face was scarred across the bridge of the nose, grinning with ugly familiarity.
"Long time, Dominic," the man shouted over the hiss of the water. "Dean sang like a canary before we broke his neck! Hand over the stray, and maybe we leave your city intact!"
Dominic recognized that voice. It belonged to Marcus Vance—a ruthless mercenary boss who had been exiled across the border five years ago.
"You should have stayed in the dirt where I left you, Vance," Dominic said from the darkness, his voice echoing deceptively through the downpour.
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Vance fired three blind rounds into the shadows, laughing loudly. "The world changed while you were playing gentleman, Dominic! Look out the window!"
Dominic glanced toward the skyline. Across the harbor, where his shipping fleet was anchored, two massive plumes of black smoke were rising into the night sky, illuminated by orange fireballs.
