Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Marble
The sudden blackness of the estate was absolute, save for the pale green glow of night-vision optics piercing through the smoked glass doors. Three heavily armed contractors in matte-black tactical gear moved swiftly through the pulverized debris of the southern entrance, their suppressed rifles raised in tight sweeping arcs.
""Target is on the third floor,"" the point man whispered into his throat mic. ""Sweep and clear the ground level. Non-lethal on the child; lethal on the primary.""
They moved with disciplined precision, their boots stepping soundlessly over the scattered rubble. But they were fighting on Vincent Morelli’s hunting ground.
Above them, perched soundlessly along the second-floor gallery balustrade, Vincent watched the infrared lasers crisscross the foyer floor. He wore no armor—just his tailored trousers and a black silk shirt unbuttoned at the collar, blending seamlessly into the towering shadows of the hall. In his hands was a custom subsonic MPX.
Without making a sound, Vincent leaned over the railing and fired two rounds into the rear operative's shoulder plates, dropping him instantly to the floor before his body could register the shock.
The remaining two contractors snapped their rifles upward, unleashing a barrage of suppressed fire that chewed into the ornate plaster crown molding. But Vincent was already gone. He had vanished into the corridor shadows before the drywall dust could settle.
""He's mobile!"" the lead contractor hissed, backpedaling toward a marble pillar for cover. ""Cover the staircase!""
Before the second man could swing his barrel, a shadowy figure dropped from the balustrade directly onto his shoulders. Vincent’s weight drove the man hard against the jagged edge of the broken marble steps. In one fluid, terrifying movement, Vincent twisted the man’s rifle away, driving an elbow into the mercenary's temple, rendering him instantly limp.
The team leader spun, bringing his sidearm up, but Vincent was already inside his guard. Vincent clamped his hand over the barrel, redirecting the slide to jam the firing pin, while his other hand sank deep into the man’s tactical collar, slamming him back against the wall.
Vincent pressed the barrel of his own pistol beneath the man's chin.
""Who authorized the hit on the third floor?"" Vincent whispered, his chest barely heaving.
May you like
The operative spat blood, glaring through his ballistic goggles. ""You're already too late, Morelli. The diversion was the front door. The heavy extraction team went up the external fire escape.""
Vincent’s heart slammed violently against his ribs. The nursery.
