Chapter 7 - Descent into Hell
The stone steps were slick with moisture and dust as Alec descended into the darkness. His heavy boots made barely a whisper against the ancient masonry, his rifle leveled at chest height, the infrared sight illuminating the spiraling corridor in ghostly shades of green.
The halothane gas hadn't fully penetrated the secret structural shafts, but the faint scent of copper and burning wire told him Donald's mercenaries had begun destroying the mansion's main server rooms. They were cleaning up the digital breadcrumbs before staging the entire event as a tragic domestic bloodbath: Victor Vance snapping, slaughtering his daughter and son-in-law, only for Donald to 'heroically' step in and inherit the empire.
Alec reached the foot of the stairwell, where a reinforced iron grating looked out into the service corridors behind the grand ballroom. He paused, checking his wrist terminal. One minute left on Donald’s ultimatum.
Peering through the slatted metal, Alec counted six private contractors stationed along the perimeter of the ballroom. In the center of the massive room, beneath the glittering glass crystal chandeliers that mirrored the suite upstairs, sat Julian.
His brother was bound to a heavy dining chair, his face blackened with severe bruises, his clothes tattered rags. Standing behind Julian, resting an ornate gold-plated revolver against Julian's temple, was Donald Thorne. Across from them, bound to a marble pillar with zip ties, was Victor Vance, gagged, his nose broken, his face pale with horror.
""Time’s up, Alec!"" Donald’s voice boomed through the ballroom's sound system, reverberating off the gilded walls. ""I know you're lurking in the walls like a rat! Show yourself, or your beloved brother paints this Persian rug!""
Alec didn't waste breath on an answer. He aimed his rifle through the grate, aligning the red crosshair directly with the skull of the mercenary guarding the master breaker switch.
He squeezed the trigger.
The suppressed crack was instantly swallowed by the shatter of glass as the guard crumpled, his skull caving into the electrical panel. The entire ballroom's chandeliers instantly short-circuited, plunging the vast hall into total blackness.
Screams and muzzle flashes erupted instantly. Donald shouted curses into the dark, firing blindly toward the ceiling. Through his night-vision optics, Alec kicked the iron grate open, stepping into the dark ballroom like a wraith of death.
He eliminated two mercenaries before they could even switch on their tactical weapon lights. The three remaining guards scattered, firing frantically at the shadows.
""Julian! Drop!"" Alec roared.
Julian, operating on raw survival instinct honed through years of torment, threw his weight forward, tipping the heavy wooden chair onto its side. A split second later, Alec fired a three-round burst right where Julian's chest had been, catching Donald's secondary enforcer directly in the throat.
Donald shrieked, firing his revolver wild into the darkness as he scrambled backward toward the VIP vault doors at the back of the ballroom.
Alec advanced, stepping over the fresh corpses without breaking stride. He knelt beside his brother, slicing the zip ties with one stroke of his blade.
Julian coughed violently, grasping Alec’s tactical vest. ""Alec... it was a trap... the girl...""
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""Clara saved you,"" Alec said, hauling his brother to his feet behind the safety of a marble pillar. ""She kept you alive.""
""No, Alec!"" Julian choked out, his bloodshot eyes wild with terror in the dark. ""You don't understand! Clara... she isn't Vance’s daughter! She's Donald's assassin!""
