Chapter 13 - The Fading Light
The sudden plunge into darkness wrapped the grand foyer in a suffocating shroud of shadows. Only the pale beams of moonlight cutting through the broken stained-glass window illuminated the marble floor. Diego gripped his Browning 9mm tightly, his senses instantly sharpening to a razor’s edge.
"Stay behind me," Diego instructed, pulling Victoria toward the massive marble pillar near the base of the staircase.
"I told you they were close," Victoria whispered urgently, pressing her back against the cool stone. "The estate’s backup generator has been tripped. They’re using an EMP pulse to fry the local grid."
From the darkened corridor leading toward the library, the sound of heavy, disciplined footsteps echoed softly against the floorboards. They weren't federal marshals, and they weren't corporate security. The cadence was too rhythmic, the movement too practiced—mercenaries.
Diego raised his pistol, aiming toward the mouth of the corridor. "Marcus! Do you copy?" he whispered into his lapel communicator. There was only static feedback in response. The EMP had fried the internal comms.
"How many?" Diego asked Victoria in a low breath.
"At least four," Victoria replied, peering cautiously around the edge of the pillar. "Equipped with night-vision optics and suppressed submachine guns."
Diego calculated his options in a fraction of a second. He was outgunned, outnumbered, and trapped in an unlit, unfamiliar zone of his own home—at least, unfamiliar with this new breed of threat. But upstairs, sleeping in the grand nursery, was Polina. The thought of the little girl in the light pink ruffled dress gave him a surge of primal, unyielding strength.
A red laser dot suddenly flickered against the opposite wall, sweeping across the grand staircase.
Diego didn't hesitate. He raised his pistol and fired two rapid shots toward the center of the dark corridor. Bang! Bang!
The muzzle flash illuminated the hallway for a split second, revealing a masked operative diving behind a heavy oak display case just as a barrage of suppressed gunfire chewed into the wooden panels beside Diego and Victoria, showering them with deadly splinters.
"Run! Get to the service stairs!" Diego yelled, firing another shot to pin down the attackers.
Victoria didn't hesitate. She scrambled across the open marble floor, keeping low as bullets ricocheted off the decorative urns and marble statues. She reached the base of the service stairs and pulled the heavy fire door open, holding it for Diego.
Diego fired his final round into the darkness, buying them a precious three seconds, before sprinting backward toward the door. Just as he reached the threshold, a heavy impact slammed into his shoulder—a stray round grazing the fabric of his black suit and searing the skin beneath.
He grunted in pain, stumbling through the doorway just as Victoria slammed the heavy steel slab shut and threw the manual locking bolt into place.
They stood panting in the dimly lit concrete stairwell, the muffled sound of heavy fists hammering against the other side of the fire door signaling the mercenaries' relentless pursuit.
"Your shoulder is bleeding," Victoria said, her eyes wide with shock as she reached out to touch the torn fabric.
"It's nothing," Diego hissed through gritted teeth, ignoring the burning pain. He turned and started climbing the stairs two at a time. "We need to get to Polina before they breach the nursery."
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As they reached the second-floor landing, the emergency backup lights flickered on, casting a sickly yellow glow over the hallway—and revealing Marcus slumped unconscious against the white oak double doors of the nursery.
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