Chapter 6 - The Siege of Mercer Manor
Adrian’s reaction was instant. The lover vanished; the warlord returned.
He pulled Claire behind him, reaching beneath the mahogany desk to pull out a sleek, black submachine gun from a hidden magnetic holster. He checked the magazine with a sharp, lethal click.
Lily woke up on the rug, screaming in terror as the sirens wailed.
“Claire! Daddy!” Lily sobbed, pulling her blanket around her head.
Claire ran to the child, gathering her into her arms, pressing Lily’s head firmly against her chest to block out the terrifying sounds.
“I’m here, baby! I’ve got you!” Claire soothed, her own heart hammering against her ribs.
Adrian walked over to them, kneeling down. He looked at Claire, his eyes filled with absolute trust.
“The panic room is in the master suite on the second floor,” Adrian told her, his voice calm despite the gunfire erupting outside the mansion windows. “Take Lily. Lock the door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone except me or Dominic. Do you understand?”
“Adrian, please be careful,” Claire cried, reaching out to grab his sleeve.
He leaned in, pressing a swift, hard kiss to her lips. “I have something to live for now, Claire. I’m not dying tonight.”
He stood up, raised his weapon, and kicked open the double doors, joining Dominic and his security guards in the hallway as heavy automatic gunfire echoed from the grand foyer below.
Claire didn't waste a second.
She lifted the six-year-old girl into her arms, ignoring the strain on her back, and ran up the grand marble staircase as glass shattered in the lower levels. The storm outside howled, mixing with the thunder of gunshots and the shouts of dying men.
As she reached the second-floor landing, a shadow stepped out from the darkness of the guest corridor.
It was one of O’Connor’s mercenaries—a heavy man wearing a tactical vest and a ski mask, holding a shotgun.
“Well, well,” the mercenary sneered, raising his barrel toward Claire. “The fat nanny and the prize.”
Panic surged through Claire, but looking down at the terrified child in her arms, her instinct to protect overruled every ounce of fear in her body.
She didn't retreat.
Claire grabbed a heavy bronze statue of a horse resting on an antique pedestal beside her and threw her entire body weight into pushing it off the edge.
The two-hundred-pound bronze sculpture fell directly onto the mercenary’s head and shoulder.
CRACK!
The man shrieked as his collarbone shattered. He tumbled backward down the flight of stairs, his shotgun clattering harmlessly across the marble.
Claire didn't look back. She sprinted down the hallway into Adrian’s master suite, slammed the heavy steel-reinforced door shut, and hit the master lock button on the wall.
Heavy iron deadbolts slammed into place with deafening thud-thud-thud sounds.
She sank onto the carpeted floor of the panic room, pulling Lily into her lap, rocking the crying girl back and forth in the dim amber emergency lighting.
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“We’re safe, Lily,” Claire whispered, tears streaming down her face, kissing the top of the child’s head. “Your daddy is coming for us. He’s coming.”
For thirty agonizing minutes, the sounds of war echoed through the massive estate walls—explosions, shattered wood, bursts of gunfire, and finally... silence.
