Chapter 6 - The Siege of the East Wing
The front oak doors of Ashford House exploded inward with a deafening flashbang. Black-clad mercenaries poured through the smoke, their assault rifles equipped with thermal optics scanning the shadows. Boots crunched over shattered glass and splintered wood.
I took position behind the grand mahogany desk in the main hall, leaning out to lay down suppressive fire. Two mercenary point-men collapsed instantly as my rounds tore through their body armor. The rest of the breach team quickly maneuvered behind the grand marble staircases, laying down an unrelenting hail of automatic fire that tore through vintage oil paintings and shattered heavy crystal chandeliers above my head.
"He's pinned down! Advance to the left flank!" the strike leader bellowed over the roar of gunfire.
That was their fatal mistake. From the shadowed second-floor balustrade, Claire emerged like a vengeful phantom. Her suppressed carbine barked in precise, three-round bursts. Three mercenaries dropped in rapid succession before the remaining squad even realized they were being attacked from high ground.
One heavy-set gunman managed to lob a grenade up toward her position. Claire reacted instantly, sweeping her leg to kick a heavy antique bronze vase off the railing. The vase intercepted the grenade mid-air, deflecting it into an adjoining empty corridor where it detonated harmlessly against the stone walls.
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Before the smoke could clear, Claire dropped down from the balcony, landing lightly on her feet behind two disoriented shooters. With terrifying speed, she used her surgical scalpel to sever the brachial artery of one gunman while driving her knife under the helmet of the second. Within three minutes, the entire primary breach squad of ten men lay dead across the foyer.
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