Chapter 9 - The Reckoning
On screen four, the heavy oak doors of the master study blew inward with a deafening crash. Splintered wood flew in all directions as three armed intruders in tactical black gear poured into the room, their weapons raised.
"Castalano!" shouted the lead intruder, a hulking brute with a jagged scar across his jaw. "Vance sends his regards—"
He didn't get to finish the sentence.
Vincent moved with terrifying, predatory speed. Two shots rang out through the internal audio feed—crack, crack—and the lead enforcer dropped instantly, his weapon clattering across the Persian rug.
The remaining two intruders scrambled for cover behind the mahogany desk, returning blind fire that shattered the bulletproof windows overlooking the Hudson. Glass rained down like diamond dust.
What followed was a brutal, textbook masterclass in tactical combat. Vincent utilized every corner of the room, moving with silent, deadly grace. Within thirty seconds, both intruders were disarmed, zip-tied, and pinned to the floor by Renzo and the estate security team, who swarmed into the room from the hallway.
Renzo kicked a discarded pistol away, breathing heavily, and looked directly into the security camera mounted in the corner—knowing I was watching from the panic room.
"All clear, Elena!" Renzo shouted up at the lens, wiping blood from a minor graze on his forehead. "The boss is fine. Threat neutralized."
A wave of dizzying relief washed over me, so intense my knees buckled. I slid down the steel wall of the vault, landing on the floor in a heap of exhausted tears.
A few moments later, a heavy knock echoed against the outside of the vault door, followed by a familiar, deep voice.
"Elena. It's over."
I scrambled up to the digital keypad, punched in the release code, and wrenched the heavy steel door open.
Vincent was standing there in the doorway. His white shirt was stained with soot and a smear of dirt along his shoulder, but he was standing tall, uninjured, and completely in control.
Before I could say a word, I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his chest, sobbing out all the terror, the panic, and the overwhelming emotion I had held back all night.
For a fraction of a second, Vincent froze in absolute shock. Men in his world didn't get hugged like this—not out of relief, not out of raw, human affection. But then, slowly, powerful arms wrapped tightly around my back, pulling me flush against him, burying his face in my hair.
"I told you," he murmured against my ear, his voice rough and thick with emotion. "I always come back."
From behind him, a sleepy voice piped up from the leather cot inside the vault.
"Is the monster gone?"
May you like
Vincent and I pulled apart, both of us flushing crimson. He cleared his throat, running a hand through his slightly disheveled dark hair, and offered a small, crooked smile.
"Yes, champion," Vincent said, walking over to pick Mia up into his arms. "The monster is gone. Time to go home."
