Ein heftiger Sog aus Wind und peitschendem Regen brach in den Raum ein, riss Papierfetzen auseinander, zersplitterte Kristall und brachte alle aus dem Gleichgewicht.
Julian stolperte rückwärts auf dem glatten Hartholzboden, als ihn der stürmische Luftstrom wie eine physische Wand traf.
„Jetzt, Emma!“
Vincent brüllte über den Sturm hinweg.
Kapitel 23 – Bruchstelle
Julian würgte, als der Knorpel unter Emmas verzweifeltem Schlag zusammengedrückt wurde und sein Griff aus ihrer Jacke glitt.
Einen kurzen Moment lang frei, dann fiel Emma direkt zu Boden und rollte unter dem Bogen von Julians wildem Gegenschlag hindurch.
„Liam, runter!“, schrie sie in den heulenden Wind.
In der großen Bibliothek brach Chaos aus.
Arthur fired his shotgun, the heavy blast tearing a gaping hole through the solid oak desk where Vincent had been standing an instant earlier.
Wood splinters flew like shrapnel.
Vincent was already moving—a lethal specter in the storm-tossed dark.
He vaulted over a collapsed leather sofa, bringing his shoulder hard into Arthur’s midsection.
The two brothers collided with bone-jarring impact, crashing against the far wall lined with leather-bound books.
Across the room, Marcus Vance tried to re-aim his pistol at the scrambling boy, but Liam, fueled by pure adrenaline, hurled the heavy metal flashlight directly at the old man’s face.
The flashlight caught Vance squarely on the bridge of his nose with a wet crunch.
Vance stumbled back with a cry of pain, blood spurting between his fingers, his shot veering wildly into the ceiling plaster.
Emma lunged across the slick floor, wrapping her arms around Liam and dragging him behind the heavy overturned mahogany credenza.
“Stay down, stay behind me!” she gasped, pressing her forehead against his trembling hair.
“Emma, I’m scared!”
Liam cried, gripping her shirt until his knuckles turned purple.
“I know, baby.
Keep your eyes shut.
Do not look.”
Behind them, the struggle was ferocious.
Arthur was larger, built like a battering ram from years of rough living in the Eastern European black markets, but Vincent moved with cold, mechanical precision.
Arthur drove a heavy combat boot into Vincent’s ribs, knocking him back, but Vincent absorbed the hit, driving an open-palm strike beneath Arthur’s chin that snapped the elder brother’s head backward.
Julian, having recovered from Emma’s blow, leveled his weapon at Vincent’s exposed back.
“Boss, move!” he yelled, finger tightening on the trigger.
“Julian, behind you!”
Vance shouted through a mask of blood.
The reinforced double doors of the library were suddenly kicked off their hinges with a thunderous bang.
Through the ruined doorway charged Dominic Rossi, accompanied by three of Vincent’s loyal inner-circle operatives who had fought their way through the cut-off security perimeter.
Dominic didn’t hesitate; his automatic rifle barked three sharp bursts into Julian’s chest before the traitorous security chief could squeeze off a single round.
Julian’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed lifeless onto the rain-slicked rug.
“Secure the perimeter!
Move, move!”
Dominic shouted, tactical laser sights crisscrossing the smoke-choked library.
Arthur realized in an instant that the tide had turned.
With an animalistic snarl, he shoved a heavy brass globe into Vincent’s chest, knocking him aside, and sprinted toward the terrace doors flanking the shattered window.
“Vance, move!”
Arthur bellowed.
The elderly traitor scrambled toward the terrace exit, but Dominic’s men opened fire.
Vance took a bullet to his thigh, collapsing onto the threshold, groaning in agony as the freezing rain soaked his tailored suit.
Arthur, however, vaulted over the low terrace balustrade and plunged into the pitch-black grounds below, swallowed whole by the raging tempest.
Vincent picked himself up from the floor, wiping blood from a split lip.
He didn’t chase Arthur into the dark.
Instead, he spun around, his breathing ragged, his gaze locking immediately onto the corner where Emma shielded her brother.
“Emma,” Vincent called out, his voice hoarse, devoid of its usual unshakeable poise.
“Liam.
Are you hit?”
Chapter 24 – The Ashes of Betrayal
Within thirty minutes, the estate was locked down by a convoy of armored SUVs bearing the crest of the Moretti tactical division.
The local police, quietly alerted through private channels, cordoned off the coastal roads under the guise of downed power lines and hurricane damage.
The great library had been transformed into a triage zone.
Rain still lashed against the plastic sheeting Dominic’s men had hastily stapled across the shattered window frame, the heavy tarps snapping violently in the wind.
Marcus Vance sat bound in a steel chair in the center of the ruined room, a field medic roughly wrapping a pressure bandage around his wounded leg.
The former titan of Chicago finance looked shriveled, the dignified facade stripped away to reveal a trembling, cornered old man.
Vincent stood over him, having changed into a clean black shirt, though the bruising on his jaw and the bandage on his hand remained visible.
