Chapter 2: Blood on the Marble
“What the hell—” Marcus spun around just as Elena stepped out from the shadows, her weapon raised.
Pop. Pop.
Two suppressed shots hit the second gunman in the chest before he could clear his holster. He dropped like a stone against the vanity.
Marcus, realizing he was suddenly outgunned, dove behind the heavy oak king-sized bed, blindly firing his own weapon. Bullets shredded Vincent’s custom suits and shattered the vanity mirror.
“We need to move!” Elena shouted over the gunfire, grabbing the dead man’s rifle and tossing it to Vincent.
Vincent caught the weapon, racking the bolt with familiar ease. He didn't fire at his nephew. Not yet. Instead, he slammed his hand against a hidden panel behind his grandfather’s portrait. The safe didn't open—the wall itself shifted. A narrow, pitch-black maintenance corridor, built for emergencies just like this, was exposed.
“In!” Vincent barked.
Elena slid into the gap. Vincent laid down a blanket of suppressing fire, shredding the mattress Marcus was hiding behind, before diving into the corridor and slamming the hidden door shut just as Marcus’s bullets chipped the drywall where his head had been.
In the suffocating dark of the tunnel, Vincent clicked on a hidden flashlight. They were safe, for now.
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“You have a panic chute?” Elena panted.
“I didn't survive thirty years by trusting my front door,” Vincent said grimly. “Let’s go. We have a family reunion to crash.”
