Chapter 6 - The Siege of Greenwich
The sun dipped below the tree line at 5:00 p.m., casting long, blood-red shadows across the snow-covered lawns of the Greenwich estate.
Inside the main security monitoring station, Elias sat with a pair of binoculars pressed against the reinforced glass window, watching the long private driveway that wound through the pine forest.
“Boss,” Elias said into his comm-link, his voice dropping into a tense register. “We have movement at the outer gates. Three unmarked black sedans. No transponders.”
In the master study, Damian stood by the mahogany desk where a heavy tactical vest rested beside his HK416 assault rifle. He had spent the last six hours coordinating with his underground contacts across New York and New Jersey, tracing the financial pipelines of Aegis Medical Supply straight to a corrupt federal judge and a syndicate boss operating out of Newark.
The net was closing.
And the rats were trying to chew their way out.
“Lock down the main house,” Damian ordered, his voice echoing through the secure comms. “Get Dr. Vance and the boys into the west wing panic room with Leo and Maya. Nobody engages unless they breach the inner perimeter.”
“Understood, Boss,” Elias replied.
Damian pulled the tactical vest over his shoulders, snapping the heavy buckles across his chest, and chambered a round into his rifle with a crisp, mechanical clack.
Before he could reach the door, it swung open.
Maya stood on the threshold. She wasn’t wearing her casual lounge clothes anymore. She had tied her dark hair back into a tight military braid, and in her hands, she held a compact Smith & Wesson M&P shield pistol that Elias had issued her half an hour ago with a brief, efficient tutorial.
“What are you doing out of the panic room?” Damian demanded, stepping toward her.
“Dr. Vance and Leo are locked down safely in the basement vault,” Maya said, her voice entirely steady, holding the firearm with a calm, practiced grip that surprised him. “I’m not hiding in a hole while your men bleed protecting my life.”
Damian stared at her.
Most women—most people—who found themselves caught in the violent crossfire of the mafia would be cowering in fear. Maya Lawson stood before him with the cold, focused eyes of a trauma nurse who had worked through code-blues under fire.
“This isn’t a hospital corridor, Maya,” Damian said, his voice dropping into a low warning. “These men aren’t carrying scalpels. They’re professional hit squads sent by a cartel that has nothing left to lose.”
“I know what they are,” Maya replied, stepping past him into the study. She picked up a spare radio headset from the desk and slipped it over her ear, adjusting the mic. “And they’re the same bastards who killed my daughter. I’m not running anymore, Damian. Either you let me fight by your side, or I walk out those front doors alone.”
Damian looked at her for a long, suffocating moment.
He saw the unyielding fire burning in her dark eyes—the same fire that had driven her to attack a hitman with a broken mop handle.
A slow, fierce pride swelled in his chest, hot and intoxicating.
“Stay behind my left shoulder,” Damian commanded, stepping close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his tactical vest. “You shoot at anything that moves past the fountain. Understood?”
“Understood,” Maya said.
Outside, the first explosion shattered the quiet winter evening.
The outer gate security station blossomed into a brilliant orange fireball as a rocket-propelled grenade tore through the concrete structure. Shrapnel rained down across the snowy driveway.
Automotic gunfire erupted from the tree line—hundreds of rounds chewing into the stone facade of the mansion, shattering windows and turning the serene estate into a warzone.
“They’re breaching the courtyard!” Elias’s voice cracked over the comms.
“Hold the line!” Damian shouted back.
May you like
He grabbed Maya’s hand, pulling her down the grand hallway as glass shattered around them and plaster rained down from the ceiling.
The war for their survival had begun.
