Chapter 8 - The Twin Shadows
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They moved through the smoke-filled upper corridor like twin shadows born of the same dark nightmare.
Three heavily armed mercenaries wearing black tactical gear and night-vision goggles breached the top of the grand staircase. They were professional hitmen, moving in tight formation, clearing the rooms with brutal efficiency.
"Lead man is mine," Damian whispered, leaning against the archway.
"Take the left," Wren corrected quietly, her gun already aligned. "I'll take the other two."
Before Damian could argue, Wren stepped out from cover.
Thwip. Thwip.
Her suppressed pistol barked twice. Two precise shots tore through the eye-slits of the two flankers' masks before they could even raise their rifles. They dropped like stone weights onto the marble stairs.
Damian fired once, catching the lead man cleanly through the throat.
The three bodies tumbled down the stairs, landing at the feet of the panicked guests fleeing through the front doors below.
Damian looked at Wren, his heart thumping hard against his ribs—not from fear, but from the raw, intoxicating thrill of watching her work. "Flawless," he breathed.
"They're coming from the north security gates," Wren said, analyzing the angle of the gunfire below. "Someone shut down the estate's perimeter alarms from the inside."
"A traitor," Damian said, his eyes narrowing. He grabbed his radio from his belt. "Luca! Report!"
Static crackled over the speaker, followed by Luca's heavy, breathing voice. "Boss! We’re pinned near the main foyer! Moretti’s men brought heavy weapons! They’ve locked down the main gates—nobody is getting out!"
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"Fallback to the subterranean tunnels under the wine cellar!" Damian ordered into the radio. "I'm coming down through the east service hatch!"
He clicked the radio off and looked at Wren. "The tunnels lead out to the boathouse on the sound. We go together."
