Chapter 13 - Blackout at the Met
"Marcus, activate Protocol Zero!" Julian roared into his comms unit, snatching a customized sidearm from the hidden compartment under the mahogany desk.
The penthouse lights abruptly died, plunging the vast space into suffocating darkness, illuminated only by the frantic flashes of lightning outside. The backup generators sputtered, then fell silent—sabotaged from the mainframe. Down the corridor, the heavy titanium security doors groaned as explosive charges detonated with a deafening *BOOM*.
Smoke poured into the living room, reeking of sulfur and ozone.
"Elena, take Leo into the safe-room panic closet! Sophia, go with them!" Julian commanded, his voice cutting through the panic like a blade.
"I’m not leaving you!" Elena shouted, ducking behind the kitchen island as a hail of automatic gunfire shattered the floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows, showering the marble floors with hundreds of razor-sharp crystal shards.
Two shadows stepped through the smoking doorway, laser optics sweeping the darkness. Julian slid across the polished floor, firing three double-taps with lethal precision. The first intruder dropped with a wet thud. The second attacker pivoted toward the corner where Elena crouched, shielding Leo with her own body.
Before the shooter could squeeze the trigger, Elena grabbed a heavy bronze sculpture from the low credenza and hurled it with every ounce of maternal fury. The heavy metal caught the operative square in the throat. He stumbled backward, choking on his own blood, and Julian closed the distance, pinning the man against the wall with his forearm crushing the mercenary’s trachea.
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"Who sent you?!" Julian snarled, his eyes feral with murderous rage.
The dying mercenary coughed up crimson foam, grinning through broken teeth. "The King... has reclaimed... his throne... She's already out, Sterling. Victoria... walks free tonight."
