Chapter 8 - THE SIEGE
The estate was no longer a home; it was a crime scene under siege by both the law and my own private vengeance. With the FBI pounding on the main gates, Thorne’s remaining private security—a group of desperate, high-priced mercenaries—had barricaded themselves in the perimeter, refusing to let the authorities in. They were protecting more than just Thorne; they were protecting the digital trail of a decade of international money laundering that would send them all to federal prison for life.
I was still inside the inner sanctum. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and expensive cologne. Thorne had reached for a secondary weapon—a compact pistol hidden under his desk—but I was already moving. I didn’t just disarm him; I incapacitated him with a tactical sweep that sent him crashing into his own glass display case.
"The walls are down, Silas," I said, looking down at him.
Suddenly, the room rocked as a flashbang detonated in the foyer. The FBI had breached the main entrance, but they were being pinned down by the mercs in the hallways. I pulled my phone and accessed the security grid one last time. I didn't just lock the doors to the study; I remotely deactivated the automated turret system in the hallways and simultaneously broadcasted the internal comms audio to the FBI’s tactical frequency.
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"Sector 4 is compromised," I spoke into the system, mimicking the voice of the head of security. "Abort and surrender. The feds have the evidence. It’s over."
The confusion was instantaneous. The mercenaries, hearing the order from their own comms, hesitated. That half-second of doubt was all the FBI tactical team needed. They surged forward, clearing the hall. I stood in the doorway of the study, shielding Sarah as the team rushed in. I didn't look like an operative anymore—I looked like a husband holding his wife, the man who had simply survived.
