Chapter 7 - The Blood Vault
The scream shattered Nikolai’s tactical detachment. Abandoning the pursuit of the mercenaries dragging Viktor into the dark, he turned on his heel and sprinted up the debris-strewn staircase. Sarah was already ahead of him, moving with lethal precision through the second-floor corridor where smoke curled along the ceiling.
They reached the nursery door. It had been breached—the reinforced titanium lock was blown outward by a shaped thermite charge. The room inside was in ruins. Bedding was torn, toys scattered across the floor, but there was no sign of Mia or Clara. Only a trail of damp footprints led toward the rear dressing room.
Nikolai kicked the dressing room door wide. Behind the wall of luxury suits and designer coats, the secret panel leading to the vertical panic shaft was wide open.
""They went down to the safe room,"" Sarah breathed, checking her weapon’s chamber. ""Clara knows the drill. If the house falls, she locks the vault.""
""The vault is lined with six inches of tungsten,"" Nikolai said, reloading his fresh magazine. ""Once the inner seal engages from the inside, nothing short of military bunker-busters can crack it. If they made it inside, they are safe.""
""Unless someone is already down there waiting for them,"" Sarah retorted coldly, pointing at the floor near the threshold of the shaft.
On the floor lay a white latex glove, stained with fresh, dark blood. Beside it was a small mustard-yellow bow, torn clean from Mia’s hair.
Nikolai’s breath caught in his throat. He scooped the small bow into his ink-stained hand, crushing it gently against his palm. His daughter’s scent of lavender soap still lingered on the fabric. The protective calm that usually governed his operations vanished, replaced by an ancient, predatory rage that made his eyes darken to near black.
""There is a maintenance conduit that bypasses the hydraulic locks,"" Nikolai said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. ""Only two people know the bypass codes.""
""You and who else?"" Sarah asked, her green eyes narrowing.
May you like
""The man who built it,"" Nikolai replied. ""Marco.""
A sudden mechanical hum vibrated through the floorboards beneath their feet. The heavy hydraulic pumps of the estate’s basement were groaning under strain. Marco hadn't fled the bunker when the lights went out; he had navigated the substructure while the mercenaries created a diversion above. He wasn't trying to breach the vault from the outside—he was sealing himself inside with the child.
