Chapter 7 - The Panic Room
The Romanov mercenaries did not hesitate; they opened fire immediately.
Raphael shoved Margot hard under the heavy oak desk, shielding her with his body as bullets shredded the cubicle.
The deafening roar of automatic weapons filled the office, tearing through computers and drywall.
Raphael returned fire from his position on the floor, taking down the two lead mercenaries with brutal precision.
"We have to move to the executive elevator, now!" Raphael shouted over the gunfire.
He laid down covering fire, forcing the remaining gunmen to dive behind a row of filing cabinets.
Margot scrambled on her hands and knees, following Raphael as they retreated down the central hallway.
They reached the executive elevator, which was powered by an independent, secure generator.
Raphael swiped a biometric ring against the scanner, and the polished steel doors slid open instantly.
They dove inside just as a barrage of bullets sparked against the closing metal doors.
The elevator shot upward, the sudden acceleration pressing them heavily into the floor.
Margot sat against the mirrored wall, her chest heaving as she tried to process the relentless violence.
"They will take the stairs, we only have a few minutes before they breach the top floor," Raphael warned, reloading his weapon.
The doors opened on the penthouse level, revealing a sprawling, luxurious office suite with panoramic views of the city.
Raphael led her to a massive bookcase covering the back wall of his private office.
He pressed a hidden button beneath his desk, and the bookcase swung inward, revealing a thick steel vault door.
They hurried inside the heavily fortified panic room, and Raphael engaged the heavy locking mechanism.
The room was surprisingly large, equipped with surveillance monitors, a medical kit, and a secure communications console.
"We are safe in here for now, the door can withstand military-grade explosives," Raphael assured her.
He walked over to the communications console and began typing a distress signal to his most loyal enforcers.
Margot slumped into a leather chair, her entire body shaking from the adrenaline crash.
She looked at her gray cardboard notebook, which she had somehow managed to hold onto through the entire ordeal.
Her fingers were covered in dust and blood, but the notebook was entirely intact.
Raphael finished sending the signal and turned around to face her, his expression softening slightly.
"You saved my empire tonight, Margot," he said quietly, walking over to her.
"I just wanted to keep my seventy-four dollars," she replied, managing a weak, exhausted smile.
Raphael knelt in front of her chair, taking her trembling hands in his own.
"When this is over, you will never have to worry about rent or temporary contracts ever again," he promised fiercely.
Margot looked into his dark eyes, feeling a strange, magnetic pull toward this dangerous, powerful man.
Before she could thank him, the surveillance monitors on the wall suddenly flared to life.
The screens showed the penthouse office outside the panic room, filled with Romanov mercenaries.
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But leading the mercenaries was not a Russian boss or a rogue security chief.
It was the Chief of Police for the entire city of Chicago, holding a breaching charge in his hand.
