Chapter 3 - The Midnight Ambush
The shockwave threw Alina off her feet, sending her skidding across the hardwood floor amid a rain of razor-sharp glass shards. Ears ringing with a high-pitched whine, she rolled over, coughing as acrid white smoke filled the bedroom. Through the haze, the red laser dots of tactical sniper sights flickered through the shattered balcony French doors.
Before a bullet could find her, a heavy, muscular frame slammed over her body. Julian pinned her against the reinforced base of the mahogany nightstand, his arms wrapping around her neck to shield her head.
A supersonic round punched through the headboard above them with the sound of a cracking whip, sending splinters exploding across the room.
"Stay down!" Julian barked into her ear, reaching blind beneath the nightstand. His fingers found the hidden magnetic release, dropping a customized short-barreled tactical rifle into his grip.
Down in the courtyard, automatic gunfire erupted in violent, overlapping bursts. The Vance compound security was returning fire, but the intruders had already breached the inner perimeter. Shouts in Russian echoed from the lawn below.
"The Petrov syndicate," Julian muttered, racking the charging handle with a sharp, practiced snap. "They know the accounts are frozen. They came to collect before the board meets."
"Julian, your stitches!" Alina gasped, her hands coming away slick with blood where his abdominal bandage had ripped open from the impact of tackling her.
"Breathe, Alina. Keep your head between your knees," he commanded. He rolled to one knee, peaked over the windowsill, and squeezed off four controlled semi-automatic shots. A heavy thump outside signaled a body dropping from the balcony trellis.
The bedroom door was suddenly kicked off its hinges. Alina stifled a scream, but it was Viktor, Helena’s lead enforcer, his black suit covered in powdered drywall and blood splatters.
"Madam Vance is in the reinforced bunker below the wine cellar," Viktor yelled over the deafening cacophony of gunfire. "They breached the east gate with an armored truck. We have three minutes before they take the upper floor."
Julian stood up, unbothered by the trail of blood leaking down his side. "How many?"
"At least twenty mercenaries. Former Spetsnaz. They aren't looking for negotiations, Vance. They're here to exterminate the bloodline." Viktor’s eyes flicked to Alina, a look of profound disgust on his features. "And they're calling for her."
Alina felt the blood drain from her face. "Me? Why would they want me?"
Julian didn't answer. He grabbed her hand, dragging her roughly to her feet. "Take the service stairs. Viktor, cover our rear."
They moved down the dimly lit hallway, the mansion shuddering under another grenade blast from the floor below. Paintings worth millions were shredded by stray bullets, antique vases reduced to powder. Julian moved like a predator despite his injuries, clearing every corner with lethal economy. Every time Alina stumbled in her bare feet, his iron grip hauled her forward without hesitation.
They reached the heavy steel fire door that led to the service elevators. Julian punched a six-digit code into the biometric keypad. The lock hissed open.
"Get inside," he ordered Alina, shoving her into the cramped, metal elevator.
She turned around, expecting him to follow, but Julian remained on the concrete landing, the rifle held steady in his hands.
"Julian! What are you doing? Get in!" she screamed, lunging forward to catch the door.
He shoved her back with a firm palm against her shoulder, his eyes cold and devoid of sentiment. "The elevator only goes to the sub-level bunker. It’s reinforced against bunker-busters. You'll be safe."
"You said they came for me! If you stay out here, they'll butcher you!"
Julian gave a dark, humorless smirk as the heavy steel doors began their hydraulic slide shut. "They didn't breach this compound for your brother’s money, Alina."
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"Then why are they here?" she cried desperately through the narrowing gap.
"They're here because your real name isn't Brooks," Julian said as the doors sealed shut. "It's Petrov. And you just delivered my family into your father's hands."
