Chapter 5 - The St. Charles Ambush
Tuesday arrived with a bitter, freezing rain that coated the city in a treacherous layer of black ice. Dante had been tense all morning, his phone ringing constantly as his captains reported anomalies along the southern shipping routes.
"I have to go to the St. Charles yard personally," Dante told Serena that evening in the foyer, his long wool coat already on, a heavy leather glove covering his hand. "Marcus Vance is making a desperate move on our cargo. I need to handle it before the Commission gets involved."
Serena walked up to him, her fingers tightening around his lapels. "Something feels wrong, Dante. The way Celeste left... she knew too much about that yard. What if it’s a trap?"
Dante leaned down, pressing a firm, reassuring kiss against her lips. "I have eighty armed men with me, Serena. We have the perimeter locked down. I'll be back by midnight. Drink some tea with my mother and stay inside."
"Promise me you'll be careful," she whispered against his mouth.
"I promise," he murmured, before turning and stepping into the private elevator with his security team.
The hours ticked by like drops of lead. By 10:00 PM, the storm outside had worsened into a full-blown blizzard, the wind howling against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the penthouse. Serena sat in the living room with Valentina, a silver pot of tea sitting untouched between them.
Suddenly, the lights in the penthouse flickered once, twice, and then went completely dead, plunging the massive space into absolute darkness.
The emergency backup generators should have kicked in within three seconds. They didn't.
"Valentina?" Serena called out, her heart skipping a beat as she stood up in the pitch black.
"I am here, child," Valentina’s voice came from the sofa, remarkably calm for an elderly woman. "Stay where you are. The guards will check the circuit breakers."
But instead of the guards' voices, the heavy, muffled sound of silenced gunfire erupted from the elevator hallway. Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.
Serena’s breath hitched in horror. The guards downstairs hadn't held. The security perimeter had been breached from the inside.
"We have to move, Valentina!" Serena shouted, sprinting through the darkness toward the sofa, grabbing the older woman’s frail arm. "Someone is inside the house!"
"The panic room is in Dante’s study," Valentina said, her voice steady but urgent as she stood up. "Follow the wall, Serena."
They moved as fast as they could through the dark, cavernous living room, their feet crunching on a stray piece of decorative glass that had shattered during the power surge. But before they could reach the study doors, the heavy glass entryway of the penthouse was shattered completely, a bright tactical flashlight cutting through the darkness, blinding them.
"Well, well, look what we have here," a mocking, familiar voice echoed through the ruined foyer.
The flashlight beam moved off their faces, illuminating the silhouette of a woman standing in a pristine white coat, a silver pistol held in her gloved hand.
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It was Celeste Bowmont. And behind her stood four heavily armed men wearing the Vanguard syndicate insignia.
"Did you really think you could take my place, little maid?" Celeste laughed, her voice echoing with a terrifying, unhinged insanity. "Dante isn't coming back to save you. He’s currently surrounded by a hundred of Marcus’s men at the rail yard. He’s dead. And now... it's your turn."
