Chapter 6 - Blood and Linen
Marcus moved like a shadow given lethal form.
Before the mercenary could recover from the flashbang shockwave, Marcus swept his leg, sending the man slamming headfirst onto the marble floor, disarming him in a single fluid motion.
“Everett!” Marcus roared, his deep voice cutting through the ringing silence of the foyer like a war horn. “Your safehouse in Queens is burning! The boy is safe!”
Everett didn't panic. He pulled a heavy revolver from his suit jacket and fired twice toward Marcus.
The heavy heavy-caliber rounds shattered the marble pillar behind Marcus as he dived behind a grand sofa for cover.
“Kill him!” Everett screamed at his remaining five mercenaries. “Kill him now!”
From the second-floor balcony, I didn't hesitate.
THWIP! THWIP!
My suppressed pistol fired twice. Two of Everett’s mercenaries dropped instantly, their weapons clattering against the floorboards.
Everett spun around, looking up at the dark gallery, his eyes widening as he spotted me standing beside Isadora.
“Damian!” Marcus yelled from below, tossing a spare tactical radio up to the balcony. “The ballroom doors are rigged with explosive charges! He’s going to blow the east entrance to make it look like a terrorist attack!”
My blood ran cold. Everett wasn't just planning a quiet takeover; he was planning to incinerate the evidence—and three hundred members of New York’s elite—to create a chaotic cover story that would leave him in total control of the Vance corporate estate.
“Isadora, clear the guests through the kitchen service exit!” I ordered, handing her my secondary radio. “Wren, take her to your mother!”
“I’m on it!” Isadora shouted, grabbing Wren’s hand and sprinting down the dark servant corridor toward the ballroom.
I vaulted over the marble balcony, dropping ten feet to the foyer floor, landing right beside my long-lost brother.
Marcus looked at me through the smoke, a bloody grin breaking across his scarred face.
“You took your sweet time under that table, little brother,” Marcus grunted, racking the slide of his combat rifle.
May you like
“I was busy admiring your terrible hand-holding skills,” I shot back, taking position behind the marble pillar beside him. “Welcome home, Marcus.”
“Good to be back,” Marcus growled. “Let’s kill this bastard.”
