Chapter 4 - Breach of the Inner Keep
The lights in the nursery flickered once, twice, and then plunged into total darkness as the emergency backup generators hummed to life, casting an eerie red glow across the room.
“Power grid cut from the outside,” Lorenzo muttered, drawing a heavy-calibre semi-automatic pistol from a concealed holster beneath his vest with fluid, practiced precision. “They’re not waiting for us to dismantle their network. They’re coming to clean house.”
“How many?” I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the adrenaline hammering in my chest.
“Based on the perimeter sensor feeds before they went offline—at least a dozen professionals. Equipped with night-vision and breaching charges.” Lorenzo stepped toward the heavy oak nursery door, checking the reinforced deadbolt. “Maya, listen to me carefully. Underneath the window seat in the corner, there’s a hydraulic panic hatch. It leads down into a reinforced storm shelter beneath the foundation. Take Nico, go down there, and lock it from the inside.”
“And you?” I demanded, grabbing a heavy medical bag from the counter. “You’re going out there alone against a dozen armed mercenaries?”
“I have men in the lower wings, but they were compromised by Crane’s medical staff poisoning the evening rations,” Lorenzo said grimly, sliding the magazine of his weapon with a sharp clack. “I have to buy you and my son enough time to reach the extraction tunnel.”
“I’m not running, Mr. Bolaro,” I said, stepping past him to pull a heavy oxygen tank from the resuscitation cart. “I spent four years keeping crashing infants alive with broken equipment and bare hands. I am not leaving my patient—or the man trying to keep him alive.”
Before Lorenzo could argue, the reinforced front doors of the mansion echoed with a deafening explosion. The shockwave rattled the nursery windows. The perimeter had been breached.
Footsteps pounded up the grand marble staircase—heavy, synchronized, and moving with lethal efficiency. They weren't wasting time searching rooms; they were heading straight for the second-floor nursery.
“No time for the panic hatch,” Lorenzo snarled, kicking the heavy oak nursery table on its side to create a barricade facing the door. “Get behind the crib! Stay down!”
I didn’t hesitate. I dropped flat onto the carpet behind the sturdy mahogany crib, pulling Nico’s bassinet into the deepest corner of the room while keeping my body shielded.
The lock on the nursery door shattered in a shower of splintered wood and metal shards as a breaching charge blew the hinges inward. Smoke and dust billowed into the room. Through the haze, black-clad figures swarmed through the threshold, weapons raised, scanning the shadows.
“Clear the room! Secure the target!” a harsh voice barked over tactical comms.
Lorenzo opened fire from behind the overturned table. The muzzle flash illuminated the dark room in staccato bursts, catching the lead intruder dead center and sending him crashing backward into the hallway.
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Chaos erupted. Gunfire chewed through the nursery walls, sending plaster and splinters flying in every direction. Glass shattered as stray rounds punched through the windows into the freezing Chicago night.
I kept my hands locked over Nico’s ears, shielding his tiny body with my own, whispering soothing words through the deafening roar of automatic weapons fire.
