Chapter 11 - The Panic Room
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I burst through the staff entrance, my chest heaving. The hallway was completely dark, the power lines clearly severed by the attackers.
“Lily!” I screamed into the darkness, ignoring the need for stealth.
I sprinted down the corridor to the small staff nursery. I threw the door open.
The elderly nanny was cowering in the corner, holding a terrified Lily tightly against her chest.
“Mama!” Lily cried, breaking free and running into my arms.
“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you,” I gasped, crushing her against me. I looked at the nanny. “Rosa, you have to run. Go out the back and hide in the woods. They aren't looking for you.”
“What about you?” Rosa trembled.
“They want leverage against Damian,” I realized, the horrifying truth dawning on me. “They know Damian cares about us. We’re the targets.”
I couldn't run into the woods with a seven-year-old. The mercenaries had night vision. We wouldn't make it a hundred yards.
“The panic room,” I muttered to myself.
I had cleaned Damian’s study every day for months. I had noticed the faint scuff marks on the floorboards behind the heavy oak bookcase. I knew there was a reinforced safe room hidden there.
“Come on, Lily. We have to be fast,” I whispered, picking her up. She was heavy, but adrenaline fueled my muscles.
I ran toward the main staircase, navigating the pitch-black mansion by memory. Heavy, booted footsteps echoed from the grand foyer below. The mercenaries had breached the front doors.
We reached the second floor and slipped into Damian’s study. I set Lily down and shoved against the heavy oak bookcase with every ounce of strength I possessed. It groaned, sliding sideways on hidden tracks, revealing a heavy steel door.
The keypad glowed faintly in the dark.
I froze. I didn't know the code.
I frantically tried Damian’s birthdate. Red light. Access Denied.
I tried the year the estate was built. Red light. Access Denied.
Heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway outside the study. They were searching the rooms. We had seconds.
I looked at the keypad, my mind racing. What numbers mattered to a man who trusted no one?
Then I remembered the day Lily had sat at the dining table. The day he had publicly defended us. November 14th.
I typed 1-1-1-4.
May you like
The keypad flashed green. The heavy steel bolts hissed, and the door clicked open.
I shoved Lily inside, pulled the door shut behind us, and slammed the internal locking mechanism just as the study doors burst open outside. We were sealed in absolute, terrifying darkness.
