Chapter 6 - Fire and Shadow
The estate's lights cut out suddenly, plunging the grand house into darkness, illuminated only by the faint red glow of backup emergency strips along the floorboards.
Upstairs in the guest suite, Harper crouched beside the bed, holding the heavy pistol in both hands. Emma was awake, sitting in the center of the bed. Nero stood over the child, his hackles raised, a low, vibration-like growl echoing from deep inside his chest.
Outside, the heavy thud-thud-thud of silenced gunfire erupted, followed by the shattering of safety glass on the lower floor.
Tyrell’s voice boomed through an external megaphone, echoing eerily through the dark hallways of the house.
"Harper! I know you're in here! Come down with Emma and I'll make sure you walk out of this! You're mixing with murderers, Harper! Dominic Vance is a criminal!"
"Don't listen to him, mommy," a tiny, raspy voice whispered.
Harper whipped her head around, her heart nearly stopping.
Emma was sitting on the bed, looking straight at her mother. Tears were streaming down the little girl's cheeks, but her eyes were clear.
"Emma?" Harper gasped, tears blinding her vision. "Baby... you spoke."
"He killed the lady in the big house," Emma whispered, her voice rough from months of disuse, but firm. "He put fire on her. He told me if I told you, he would put fire on you too."
Harper crawled over, pulling Emma into a fierce, desperate embrace, kissing her hair repeatedly. "He won't hurt us anymore, baby. I promise you. He's never hurting us again."
Downstairs, the battle was swift and brutal. Tyrell had brought six rogue cops and four Moretti enforcers, believing an armored assault would overwhelm a civilian estate. He hadn't accounted for Dominic Vance's personal security detail—former special forces operatives who moved through the dark like ghosts.
Muzzle flashes illuminated the grand foyer in violent strobes. Dominic stood behind the marble balcony on the second floor, firing a silenced submachine gun with terrifying precision.
"Tyrell!" Dominic called down, his voice cutting through the smoke and ringing steel. "Your men are dying for a paycheck you won't live to spend! Step into the light and face me!"
A figure stepped out from beneath the shadow of the lower archway—not Tyrell, but his partner, a dirty detective named Miller. Miller raised his rifle toward Dominic, but before he could squeeze the trigger, a two-hundred-pound shadow launched itself from the top of the stairs.
Nero hit Miller with the force of a speeding vehicle, pinning him to the floorboards. The rifle clattered away across the slick tile.
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Harper came down the stairs right behind the dog, her pistol raised, eyes wide with fierce maternal rage. "Where is he?!" she screamed at Miller.
Miller, gasping for air beneath Nero's massive paws, wheezed out, "He... he went to the back garage... he's setting charges... he's gonna blow the evidence room..."
