Chapter 5 - The Ambush at Sunrise
The first intruder stepped out of the shadow of the arched hallway, his night-vision goggles casting a faint green glow across his tactical helmet. He raised his suppressed rifle, sweeping the room.
He never saw the shadow drop from the balcony above.
Mara fell upon him like an avenging angel, her knees locking around his neck as she drove him into the floorboards with crushing momentum. The man gasped, his rifle clattering against the marble tiles, but before he could raise his hands, Mara’s karambit flashed in the dark.
A single, precise strike to the shoulder plexus neutralized him instantly.
The second operative, right behind him, snapped his weapon toward Mara.
Dominic fired twice.
The suppressed cracks of his pistol tore through the quiet of the gallery. Two rounds caught the second operative square in the ceramic chest plate, knocking him backward against the wall. Before he could recover, Dominic closed the distance, the butt of his pistol crashing down across the man’s helmet with bone-cracking force.
Silence descended once more, broken only by the steady drumbeat of the rain outside.
“Clear,” Dominic murmured, his chest rising and falling as he scanned the corridor.
Mara stood up smoothly from the first operative, wiping her blade clean against the man’s tactical vest. She didn't look shaken; she looked energized, as if violence were an old, familiar language she spoke fluently.
“That’s two,” Mara said, her voice steady. “Two more are coming through the kitchen courtyard. They heard the shots.”
“How do you know?”
“Because professionals don't travel in pairs when attacking a fortified estate,” Mara said, stepping past him toward the service stairs. “They use a pincer movement. While we were dealing with these two, the others were heading for the kitchens to cut off our exit to the docks.”
Dominic followed her, a strange, grim respect settling into his chest. “Who are you, Mara? Really.”
“My name is Mara Keene,” she said over her shoulder as they moved through the shadows. “Former tactical liaison for the international recovery unit. My brother was the driver of the SUV that forced your wife’s car off the road fourteen months ago. He wasn't a criminal, Mr. Rourke. He was blackmailed by the same men who are trying to kill your children tonight. And I’ve spent the last year hunting down every single person who signed that order.”
Dominic stopped dead in his tracks. The world seemed to tilt on its axis.
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“Your brother... was David Keene?” Dominic whispered, remembering the police report from the night of the crash—the driver found dead in the ditch three miles from the wreck, officially ruled a heart attack.
“He didn't have a weak heart,” Mara said, her voice dropping into a register of cold, unrelenting ice. “They injected him with potassium chloride because he refused to finish the job. And now... we’re going to finish theirs.”
