Chapter 6 - The Siege of the Penthouse
The heavy elevator doors at the end of the private executive hallway slid open with a soft, ominous ding.
Four men in matte-black tactical gear, carrying suppressed submachine guns and wearing military-grade night-vision goggles, stepped out into the carpeted corridor in a textbook wedge formation.
Leading them was a scarred, heavy-set mercenary named Logan, who had spent the last decade running wet-work operations for international corporate cartels.
"Clear the hallway," Logan hissed into his comms mic, sweeping his weapon toward the heavy oak double doors of the penthouse office. "Target is Elena Vance. Eliminate everyone inside. Leave no witnesses."
They moved forward with lethal precision. Logan raised his boot and kicked the heavy oak doors off their hinges with a single, brutal strike.
The doors crashed inward.
Inside the penthouse, the room was bathed in the dim, golden light of the morning sun.
Elena sat calmly behind the mahogany executive desk, sipping her black coffee, her legs crossed, her amber eyes fixed entirely on the intruders. Aiden stood near the window, his hand resting on a heavy brass fireplace poker, his muscles coiled like a spring.
"Well, took you long enough," Elena said, her voice echoing calmly across the spacious room.
Logan raised his rifle, aiming directly at her chest. "End of the line, Ms. Vance. Your uncle might be in a jail cell, but our employers don't leave loose ends."
"Your employers?" Elena tilted her head, a cold chuckle escaping her lips. "You mean the syndicate that financed Victor’s hostile takeover of my father’s shipping lanes twenty years ago?"
Logan paused, his finger tightening slightly on the trigger. "How do you know about—"
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"Because they’re the ones who ordered my parents' car crash," Elena whispered, standing up slowly from her leather chair. "And they're the ones who thought a little salt water would keep me quiet."
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