Chapter 8 - The Siege
Saturday night arrived wrapped in a shroud of thick, suffocating fog that rolled in off Lake Michigan, swallowing the streetlights and turning the estate into a ghostly silhouette against the dark sky.
Inside the mansion, every light was extinguished. The massive building sat in utter, deceptive darkness, like a sleeping beast waiting to be poked.
In the industrial kitchen, Grace was moving with quiet, mechanical efficiency. She wasn't cooking tonight. Instead, she was helping Viktor and the inner circle distribute secured gear, her sleeves rolled up, her face set in a mask of absolute determination.
Outside, the silence was shattered.
The deep, guttural roar of armored trucks pierced the fog. The iron gates didn't just open—they were smashed off their hinges by a reinforced vehicle as a dozen armed mercenaries poured into the courtyard like ants spilling from a kicked anthill.
Marcus Moretti stood in the center of the courtyard, holding a cigar between his thick fingers, sneering up at the darkened windows of the mansion.
"Burn it to the ground!" Moretti roared over the din of revving engines. "Flush the rat out!"
The first wave of mercenaries rushed the front doors, heavy battering rams raised. But as they hit the marble steps, the courtyard floor erupted.
It wasn't explosives—it was Brutus, Caesar, and Nero, unleashed from the side kennels by Viktor, accompanied by a dozen secondary guard dogs trained specifically for perimeter defense. The massive beasts tore into the front lines like a tidal wave of snapping jaws and dark fur, instantly neutralizing the lead breach team before they could set their charges.
"Focus fire on the dogs!" Moretti screamed, his face turning purple with rage.
Before the mercenaries could raise their rifles, the second-floor windows shattered outward. Heavy, suppressed gunfire rained down from above with lethal, calculated precision. Dante Vance stood at the edge of the master balcony, dual submachine guns in hand, picking off the syndicate soldiers with cold, merciless efficiency. Every shot was a statement: this is my domain.
Yet, Moretti’s forces were too numerous. A heavy mortar team scrambled toward the side courtyard, aiming their barrel straight at the vulnerable reinforcement wall of the mansion's east wing. If that wall went down, the entire structure would collapse.
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Grace, watching from the security monitor in the basement command center, saw the red marker flashing on the east wall.
Without a second thought, she grabbed a heavy fire extinguisher from the wall bracket, unlocked the heavy basement exit leading directly to the side garden, and slipped out into the fog.
