Chapter 5 - The Velvet Trap
The subterranean vault beneath the Westchester estate was built like a military bunker—reinforced steel walls, independent oxygen filtration, and tactical monitoring screens displaying real-time feeds from the estate’s security network.
Emma sat on a leather bench in the dim blue light of the monitors, holding Sophie tightly in her lap.
The little girl was trembling violently, her hands buried inside Emma’s cream sweater. Emma didn't try to make her sign. She simply rocked her back and forth, humming a low, soothing lullaby that Sophie could feel through the vibrations of Emma’s chest.
On the central monitor screen, the chaos of the estate was laid bare.
Julian moved through his home like a grim reaper. He moved with cold, terrifying precision, firing with lethal accuracy, flanked by Dominic and his remaining loyal guards. The Marcone mercenaries were being systematically eliminated, their tactical assault collapsing under the ruthless ferocity of the Vance Syndicate’s master.
Papa is winning, Emma signed to Sophie, pointing a gentle finger at the monitor screen. See? He is safe.
Sophie looked at the screen, her small breath hitching as she saw her father drop another gunman near the grand staircase.
Suddenly, the security feed on monitor three went black.
Then monitor four.
Then the main control panel on the vault door let out a sharp, high-pitched electronic whine.
CLICK.
The heavy, three-ton steel deadbolts of the vault door disengaged.
Emma’s blood turned to ice. She stood up instantly, shoving Sophie behind her into the narrow alcove where the emergency rations were stored.
"Stay behind me, Sophie," Emma whispered, grabbing a heavy steel emergency crowbar from the wall rack, holding it with both hands like a baseball bat.
The heavy steel vault door slowly swung open.
Standing in the doorway was not Julian.
It was a tall, thin man in a tailored silver suit, holding a silver-plated revolver. His face was sharp, predatory, and disfigured by a thin scar stretching across his upper lip. Beside him stood two armed mercenaries holding silenced pistols.
Victor Marcone—the head of the Marcone family.
"Well, well," Victor sneered, his cold eyes scanning the vault until they landed on Emma. "Julian’s precious little mute hidden away in the dark... guarded by a fat kitchen maid."
Emma squared her broad shoulders, her grip tightening around the steel crowbar until her knuckles turned white. She positioned her body so that she completely blocked the alcove where Sophie was hidden.
"You're in the wrong house, Marcone," Emma said, her voice dropping into a low, terrifying growl that surprised even herself.
Victor laughed, a thin, grating sound. "Julian killed my brother six months ago. Today, I take his daughter, and I tear his empire down to the dirt."
He gestured to the two guards beside him. "Grab the child. Shoot the maid."
One of the mercenaries stepped forward, raising his silenced pistol directly at Emma’s chest.
May you like
Emma didn't wait to be a target.
With a primal scream born from deep within her broad, powerful frame, Emma lunged forward, swinging the heavy steel crowbar with every ounce of muscle she possessed.
