Chapter 4 - Lockdown at Ashford House
Our conversation was abruptly shattered by a heavy thud that vibrated through the floorboards. High-pitched emergency sirens began to blare throughout the estate, followed immediately by complete darkness as the main electrical grid was severed from the outside. The backup generators hummed for three seconds before a sharp explosion knocked them out as well.
Red emergency LED strips flickered along the baseboards. Outside the heavy stained-glass windows, rain lashed against the glass in a torrential storm, illuminated by flashes of lightning. Across the front lawn, the headlights of five dark SUVs breached the front gates, heavy tires grinding over the crushed gravel driveway.
"Marcus wasn't acting alone," I muttered, striding to the reinforced window. "He was the insider meant to cut the power and open the doors from within. Victor has sent his entire assault team to finish the job."
"How many guards do you have left alive on the estate?" Claire asked, her tone shifting seamlessly into combat mode.
"None that I can trust," I replied grimly. "Marcus managed all security rotations. Anyone loyal to me was likely executed in their guard posts ten minutes ago. It's just you and me against at least twenty-five heavy shooters."
Ashford House, once an impenetrable fortress of wealth and power, was now a darkened slaughterhouse. Without external communications or immediate reinforcements from my Miami crews, we were completely cut off. The storm outside drowned out all ambient sound, giving the invading mercenaries the perfect cover to breach the estate perimeter.
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Claire didn't panic. She reached under her maid’s apron, pulled back her skirt, and unbuckled a hidden tactical knife strapped to her inner thigh. "Then we had better start thinning their numbers before they reach the safe room door."
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