Chapter 6 - Blood on Polished Glass
Before Julian could fire, the heavy tempered glass shattered inward with an explosive roar. Shards of glass rained across the mahogany desk and leather furnishings like jagged hail.
Julian dragged Clara down behind the reinforced steel-backed bookcase just as a hail of suppressed gunfire shredded the room. Books exploded into confetti, plaster rained down, and the smell of ozone and cordite filled the air.
Without hesitation, Julian leaned out from behind cover and fired three calculated shots. Two dull thuds followed as two of the intruders collapsed onto the broken glass, neutralised instantly.
The third intruder, larger and moving with military precision, vaulted over the desk, kicking Julian’s weapon from his grip. The gun skittered across the floor, stopping inches from where Clara crouched.
Julian lunged forward, trading vicious hand-to-hand blows in the gloom. The assailant slashed with a curved combat knife, slicing through Julian’s dress shirt and opening a bloody crimson line across his chest. Julian didn't even grunt. He seized the man’s wrist, twisting it until the bone cracked, then slammed him face-first into the marble mantle.
The attacker collapsed, gasping for air, the mask slipping from his face.
Clara crawled out from behind the bookcase, staring at the fallen assassin. When the faint moonlight caught the man's features, a horrified gasp tore from her throat.
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"Nikolai...?" she choked out.
The dying man turned his bleeding face toward Clara, his eyes wide with recognition. "Clara... run," he wheezed, coughing up blood. "Sterling... sold us out. The bomb in the vault... it isn't set for Julian. It's set for you."
