Chapter 3 - Breach in the Core
The emergency klaxons finally screamed to life, flooding the penthouse with harsh red strobe lights.
*Warning. Exterior perimeter breached at Sector Nine. Multiple armed hostiles entering the building.*
Lorenzo was out of his chair in a fraction of a second, drawing his sidearm with fluid, lethal precision. "Stay behind the desk," he ordered, his voice brooking no argument as he positioned himself defensively in front of the five girls.
"Oh, please," Maya scoffed, rolling her eyes as she pulled a compact, customized tablet from her coat pocket. "We didn't walk into a syndicate stronghold without a tactical exit strategy, Father. Sector Nine was a calculated diversion."
"A diversion?" Lorenzo glared down at her. "There are forty armed Bratva mercenaries blowing up my lobby!"
"And we disabled their primary communication relays before we took the elevator," chimed in Lily, holding up her legal pad with a smug grin. "They're currently walking into a crossfire between your private guard detail and the local SWAT team that we anonymous-tipped twenty minutes ago."
Before Lorenzo could scold them for involving federal law enforcement in a cartel turf war, the mahogany doors burst inward in a splintered shower of wood and drywall.
Three heavily armed mercenaries rushed through the smoke, their assault rifles raised.
Lorenzo fired twice—*bang, bang*—neutralizing the lead attacker instantly, but the remaining two swung their barrels toward him, trapping him in a crossfire.
They never got to pull their triggers.
From behind Lorenzo's legs, a synchronized flurry of movement erupted. Zoe hurled a handful of specialized micro-flashbangs across the floor, while Mia remotely overrode the ceiling sprinkler system, flooding the room with a blinding strobe of water and high-frequency sonic feedback.
The mercenaries screamed, dropping their weapons as they clutched their ears, blinded and disoriented.
Lorenzo didn't hesitate. He closed the distance, neutralizing both threats with ruthless efficiency before standing over them, chest heaving, his gaze snapping back to his daughters.
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All five girls were standing calmly behind the desk, wearing noise-canceling tactical earmuffs, looking as unbothered as if they had just watched a cartoon.
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