Chapter 6 - Fire and Concrete
The explosion shook the earth beneath the estate, but it wasn't the cellar doors that gave way—it was the trapdoor beneath Derek’s feet. With a deafening roar of fracturing concrete and splintered oak, the floor of the grand foyer collapsed, plunging Derek and three of his top enforcers into the dark, flooded lower utility tunnels.
Water rushed in from ruptured main pipes, spraying freezing torrents into the darkness. Derek coughed and sputtered, clawing his way up onto a concrete ledge, his designer jacket ruined and his face caked in soot and blood.
""Boss! Boss, are you okay?"" one of the surviving mercenaries yelled, dropping down from the jagged edge above.
""Get me up!"" Derek snarled, grabbing the man's outstretched hand and hauling himself up. He spat out a mouthful of muddy water, his eyes wild with a mixture of rage and sudden, creeping dread. ""The man is a lunatic. He blew his own house up just to trap us.""
""We need to get to the extraction vehicle, Mr. Loss,"" the mercenary urged, scanning the dripping, claustrophobic tunnels with a flashlight. ""The perimeter alarms are locked down, but the drainage pipe leads straight out to the river.""
""Move!"" Derek barked, limping down the dark concrete corridor.
Above them, walking leisurely along the reinforced maintenance catwalk that overlooked the drainage system, was Alexander. He didn't raise a weapon. He simply watched them scurry like rats through his underground maze, waiting for the right moment.
""Looking for a way out, Derek?"" Alexander's voice echoed off the concrete walls, bouncing from every direction so it was impossible to pinpoint.
Derek stopped dead in his tracks, spinning around with his pistol drawn, firing blindly into the echoes. ""Show yourself, you coward!""
""You walked into my home, terrorized an innocent woman, and thought there would be a negotiation?"" Alexander stepped out onto a lower platform, standing directly in front of the massive exit grate that led to the river. The moonlight cut through the iron bars, silhouetted against his towering, immovable frame.
Derek’s eyes locked onto him. A manic, desperate grin spread across his face as he raised his gun, leveling it straight at Alexander's chest. ""End of the line, Vance.""
Before Derek could pull the trigger, a red laser dot flickered onto the center of his forehead—not from Alexander, but from the darkness behind him.
Derek froze, slowly lowering his weapon as three heavy assault rifles clicked simultaneously from the shadows.
""Drop it,"" a cold, authoritative voice commanded from behind Derek.
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Derek turned his head slowly and saw Marcus Vance, Alexander’s brother and the federal prosecutor, stepping out of the shadows flanked by a heavily armed federal tactical unit.
Alexander walked slowly toward Derek, his boots splashing in the shallow water, until he stood inches away from the trembling ex-husband. Without a word, Alexander raised his fist and delivered a single, crushing blow straight to Derek’s jaw, sending him crashing unconscious into the muddy water.
