Chapter 7 - The Breach
The armed intruders moved with terrifying, synchronized precision.
Victor reacted instantly, moving with a speed that belied his damaged leg.
He shoved Isabelle violently behind the heavy oak dining table, throwing his own body over hers to shield her.
A hail of suppressed gunfire shattered the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, showering the room in jagged glass.
Victor's security chief drew his weapon and fired back, dropping the first intruder with two shots to the chest.
But the remaining two attackers laid down a brutal barrage of covering fire, forcing the security chief to dive behind the marble fireplace.
"Stay down!" Victor roared over the deafening noise.
Isabelle covered her head, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her teeth.
Victor pulled a compact, matte-black pistol from a shoulder holster hidden beneath his suit jacket.
He didn't fire wildly.
He waited, listening to the distinctive rhythm of the attackers' gunfire.
When one of the men paused to reload, Victor popped up from behind the table.
He fired a single, precise shot.
The second intruder collapsed, clutching his throat.
The final attacker immediately realized the element of surprise was gone.
He turned and bolted back through the shattered window, diving into the snow and disappearing into the dark tree line.
Silence crashed down on the ruined dining room, broken only by the sound of the freezing wind howling through the broken glass.
Victor stayed low, keeping his weapon trained on the windows until his security team flooded the room from the hallways.
"Secure the perimeter!" the security chief barked. "Lock down the entire compound!"
Victor carefully helped Isabelle to her feet.
She was trembling violently, her repaired cream dress covered in dust and tiny shards of glass.
"Are you hurt?" Victor asked, his voice surprisingly gentle as his hands quickly checked her for injuries.
"No," Isabelle gasped, struggling to catch her breath. "I'm okay."
Victor turned his attention to the dead intruder lying near the doorway.
He crouched down and roughly pulled the black tactical mask off the man's face.
The man was young, heavily tattooed, and completely unrecognizable to Isabelle.
But Victor recognized him instantly.
A dark, dangerous fury settled over Victor's features.
"He isn't a professional contractor," Victor stated coldly, standing up.
"He belongs to the Moretti family."
Isabelle frowned, confused by the sudden shift in the narrative.
"I thought your family made peace with the Morettis years ago?" she asked, remembering the whispered rumors about Victor's past.
"We did," Victor replied, his jaw clenched tight.
He looked down at the dead man, putting the pieces of the puzzle together with terrifying speed.
"Patricia didn't just embezzle my money, Isabelle."
"She knew I would eventually find out."
"She needed protection from me."
He looked at Isabelle, his gray eyes burning with cold rage.
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"Patricia didn't steal four million dollars to buy designer dresses."
"She used my money to hire the Moretti family to assassinate me."
