PART 4: Fire on the Marble Floor
PART 4: Fire on the Marble Floor
Assassins discover lethal underworld hospitality.
The southern corridor of the Hale estate was pitch black, stripped of its ambient lighting as the automated security grid plunged the hallways into shadow to disorient intruders.
I moved through the darkness like a ghost, hugging the wood-paneled walls, my boots making zero sound against the thick Persian rugs.
My enforcers were already positioned at key choke points, waiting for the signal to spring the trap.
On my tactical earpiece, Vance’s voice crackled softly.
"They’ve breached the ground-floor window near the east study. Moving toward the main staircase now."
"Let them cross the foyer," I whispered back, tightening my grip on the pistol grip. "Draw them into the open."
The sound of rubber-soled tactical boots scuffing against marble echoed faintly from the grand foyer below.
Four figures clad in black tactical gear crept into the vaulted entrance hall, their weapon flashlights slicing erratic beams through the dim morning air.
They thought they were conducting a surgical strike against a distracted target.
They didn't know every blind spot, every acoustic resonance, and every square inch of this fortress was designed by men who lived and breathed tactical warfare.
"Now," I breathed into the comms.
The foyer instantly erupted into a blinding flash of tactical suppressive fire.
Two of my enforcers dropped from the upper balcony, their submachine guns hammering out controlled bursts that cut down the two leading operatives before they could even raise their barrels.
The remaining two intruders panicked, scrambling behind marble pillars and firing wildly into the dark.
I stepped out from the shadows of the upper mezzanine, looking down directly at the two surviving gunmen cowering below.
"You picked the wrong house," I called out, my voice echoing like thunder across the vaulted ceiling.
Before they could turn their weapons toward me, two quick, precise shots from my pistol punched through their shoulder armor, dropping both men to the floor in agony.
The foyer fell silent again, save for the acrid smell of gunpowder hanging heavy in the air.
May you like
The test was over.
The vultures had been clipped.
