Chapter 4 - The Blackout Hunt
Red emergency backup lights flickered to life along the baseboards, casting long, bloody shadows across the ruined bridal suite. Dr. Evans worked frantically by the dim glow of his surgical headlamp, his hands stitching Clara’s torn side with surgical precision.
""Hold her down,"" Evans gasped. ""The local won't hold if I have to move quickly, and the power surge blew out my cauterizer.""
Alec leaned over Clara, pinning her shoulders gently against the mattress so she wouldn't tear the sutures. Clara bit her lip until fresh blood welled up, her eyes wide and panicked in the crimson glow. ""Alec... they cut the grid. My father’s men... they have the security codes for the entire compound.""
""They don't have my codes,"" Alec murmured, his voice deadly calm despite the chaos downstairs. Gunfire echoed from the floors below—muffled, rapid bursts that signaled an organized breach.
Alec pulled out his comm piece, clicking the channel open. ""Marcus. Report.""
Static hissed in his ear before a rough voice cut through. ""Boss, the south gate fell. A convoy of blacked-out SUVs just rammed the perimeter. They aren't trying to loot the vault. They're sweeping the floors. Room by room. They're heading straight for the master quarters.""
""Contain the staircase,"" Alec commanded. ""Seal the elevator shafts. And execute Victor Vance if they get within two doors of the basement.""
""Understood.""
Alec turned back to Clara. Evans had finished the last suture and was bandaging her torso with rapid, practiced movements. ""She's stabilized for now, Mr. Thorne,"" Evans muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. ""But she can't run. If she exerts herself, she will tear the internal stitches.""
""She won't have to run,"" Alec said. He walked over to the closet wall, pressing his palm against an invisible seam in the oak paneling. The biometric scanner chimed quietly, and a panel slid back, revealing an array of tactical gear, ballistic vests, and automatic weapons.
Alec pulled out a lightweight tactical vest and slipped it on over his rumpled dress shirt. He grabbed a compact submachine gun and handed a snub-nosed revolver to the doctor. ""Stay behind this bed. If anyone opens that door who isn't wearing a gray tie, shoot them.""
He walked back to Clara, leaning down until his lips brushed her ear. ""Who ordered the strike, Clara? Not your father. He wouldn't risk his own life while locked downstairs.""
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Clara looked at him, her eyes dark with a terrifying realization. ""The thumb drive... plug it into your wrist terminal. It wasn't my father who traded Julian. It was someone in your own family.""
Alec froze, his blood turning to liquid ice. Before he could insert the drive, the reinforced steel door of the suite shuddered under the impact of a high-grade breaching charge.
