Chapter 7 - The Siege
Adrien watched the convoy approach, his mind instantly shifting from frantic father to wartime boss.
He wasn't going to die in this house, and he certainly wasn't going to let anyone stop him from getting his children back.
“Marco, initiate protocol Omega,” Adrien ordered calmly into his comms.
“Omega? Boss, are you sure? The estate...”
“I don't care about the estate, Marco. I care about the airspace. Execute the protocol.”
“Yes, sir.”
Protocol Omega was the nuclear option. It wasn't designed to defend the property; it was designed to destroy any evidence linking Adrien to illegal activities and provide a chaotic distraction for his escape.
Adrien turned away from the window and sprinted toward his private office.
He burst through the doors and found Elias frantically packing a shockproof case with hard drives.
“Leave it,” Adrien commanded.
“Boss, the financial ledgers—”
“I said leave it, Elias. We’re out of time.”
Adrien moved to the large portrait of his grandfather hanging behind the desk. He pressed a hidden sequence of buttons on the wooden frame, and the painting swung open, revealing a heavy steel safe.
He quickly inputted the combination, grabbed a thick stack of bearer bonds, a collection of forged passports, and a customized satellite phone.
He shoved them into a duffel bag and tossed it to Elias.
“Take the tunnel to the boathouse,” Adrien instructed. “I’ll meet you there.”
Elias nodded, his face pale with fear, and disappeared behind the secret panel.
Downstairs, the sound of heavy gunfire erupted.
The assault team had breached the front doors.
Adrien drew a secondary weapon from an ankle holster, a compact submachine gun, and stepped out of his office.
The grand staircase was a war zone.
Marco and the remaining conscious guards were exchanging furious fire with men dressed in full tactical gear, wearing unmarked black uniforms.
Adrien didn't recognize their tactics or their weapons. These weren't rival mafia soldiers; these were highly trained mercenaries.
He leaned over the mahogany banister and fired a short, controlled burst into the tactical team advancing up the stairs.
Two men dropped immediately, their armor unable to stop the armor-piercing rounds Adrien favored.
“Marco! Fall back to the safe room!” Adrien yelled over the deafening noise.
Marco nodded, signaling his men to retreat.
Adrien laid down suppressive fire, covering their withdrawal, before sprinting down a side hallway toward the servant’s quarters.
He wasn't heading for the safe room. He was heading for the extraction point.
As he moved through the darkened corridors, he heard the distinct, heavy thud of explosive charges detonating in the east wing.
Protocol Omega was active.
The estate’s automated defense systems were systematically destroying servers, incinerating documents, and triggering localized structural collapses to block critical pathways.
The house was rapidly becoming a death trap for the invading force.
Adrien reached the kitchen, the air thick with smoke and the smell of cordite.
He bypassed the main door and opened a heavy steel pantry door, revealing a narrow, spiral staircase leading down into the bedrock beneath the estate.
He descended quickly, the sound of the battle above fading into a muffled rumble.
The subterranean tunnel led to a hidden dock beneath the boathouse on the nearby river.
Elias was already there, shivering in the damp air, clutching the duffel bag tightly.
A sleek, heavily modified speedboat bobbed in the dark water.
“Get in,” Adrien ordered.
Elias scrambled into the boat, and Adrien followed, immediately moving to the helm.
He fired up the massive twin engines, their roar echoing loudly in the enclosed stone cavern.
He hit the automated door release, and the heavy metal grate separating the dock from the river slowly groaned open.
As the boat shot out into the driving rain, Adrien looked back at his sprawling estate.
Flames were licking at the windows of the east wing. The sound of sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer.
His home was destroyed, his empire was in chaos, and his children were in the hands of an unknown enemy.
Or worse, in the hands of his dead wife.
He steered the boat down the river, navigating the treacherous currents in the dark, heading toward a private airfield where his jet was waiting.
He pulled the satellite phone from the duffel bag and dialed a highly encrypted number.
It rang twice before a gruff, heavily accented voice answered.
“Moretti. I was wondering when you’d call.”
“I need a favor, Luca,” Adrien said, his voice cold and deadly.
“Favors from me are expensive, Adrien. Especially in Italy.”
“I don't care what it costs,” Adrien replied. “Someone just took my children to Milan.”
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Luca chuckled dryly. “Milan? That’s Rossi territory. You’re walking into a slaughterhouse, my friend.”
“I know,” Adrien said, pushing the throttle forward. “Tell Rossi I’m coming. And tell him if my children are harmed, I’ll burn Milan to the ground.”
