Chapter 14 - The Breach
"Where is my wife?" Ethan roared into the phone, completely abandoning any trace of his professional demeanor.
He sprinted toward his heavily armored SUV, entirely ignoring the chaotic federal agents shouting orders behind him.
"She is currently locked inside your pathetic panic room," Silas Thorne replied smoothly, his voice devoid of any human empathy.
"Your highly paid security detail was incredibly disappointing, Ethan. They lasted barely three minutes."
Ethan slammed the car door shut, throwing the massive vehicle into gear and accelerating aggressively out of the prison lot.
"If you touch a single hair on her head, or harm my children, I will rip you apart with my bare hands," Ethan swore, pressing the accelerator completely to the floor.
"You have exactly twenty minutes to return to the estate," Silas countered, entirely unfazed by the violent threat.
"If you are even one second late, I will pump lethal carbon monoxide directly through the ventilation system of the panic room."
The call abruptly ended, plunging Ethan into an absolute, suffocating nightmare.
He drove with reckless, terrifying speed through the snowy Chicago streets, navigating the dangerous traffic purely on desperate adrenaline.
He frantically mentally reviewed the blueprints of the panic room he had installed to protect Hannah from his mother.
The heavy steel room was entirely impenetrable from the outside, featuring an independent air supply and heavily reinforced communication lines.
But Silas had successfully hacked the main network; if he gained physical access to the primary environmental controls in the basement, he could easily poison the air.
Ethan arrived at the estate's massive iron gates exactly eighteen minutes later, tires screeching violently against the icy pavement.
The front gates were entirely blown off their heavy hinges, and the pristine, snowy driveway was violently scarred by heavy tactical vehicles.
He grabbed a loaded 9mm pistol from the hidden compartment under his driver's seat, stepping cautiously out into the freezing wind.
The front door of his beautiful home was completely shattered, and three of his highly trained security guards lay motionless on the front porch.
He stepped over them, checking their pulses quickly; they were heavily sedated by chemical darts, but miraculously still alive.
The entire house was deathly quiet, a stark contrast to the absolute violence that had clearly just occurred.
He moved silently down the main hallway, holding his weapon perfectly steady, moving toward the basement access door.
Suddenly, a massive, heavily armed mercenary stepped out from the formal dining room, raising an automatic rifle directly at Ethan’s chest.
Ethan did not hesitate for a microsecond; he fired two precise, calculated shots, instantly neutralizing the immediate threat.
He stepped over the fallen mercenary and kicked open the heavy basement door, descending rapidly into the dark shadows.
Silas Thorne stood casually in the center of the subterranean command center, entirely unbothered by the sudden gunfire upstairs.
He was a tall, incredibly imposing man with silver hair and cold, dead eyes that radiated pure, unadulterated hatred.
He held a heavy steel wrench, resting it dangerously close to the primary air intake valve for the panic room.
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"You made excellent time, Doctor Caldwell," Silas smiled, the expression utterly devoid of any genuine warmth.
"Now, put the gun down, or I flood the room."
