Chapter 7 - Blood in the Penthouse
The hallway was a deafening nightmare of concussive blasts and blinding muzzle flashes.
Smoke rolled in thick, gray clouds across the polished marble floor, lit only by the rhythmic strobe of gunfire.
Adrian moved through the penthouse like a phantom born of shadow and iron.
He slid behind a solid marble pillar as a burst of automatic fire chewed through an antique credenza, showering the corridor in glass and mahogany shrapnel.
Before the lead mercenary could reload, Adrian leaned out from cover and fired two double-taps with surgical precision.
Both rounds struck the shooter in center mass, dropping him instantly to the floor.
"Flank him from the dining room!" Victor’s panicked screech echoed from the foyer.
"Don't let him reach the server room! Kill him, you idiots!"
Two more mercenaries rushed through the double glass doors of the dining room, but Adrian had already anticipated their trajectory.
He dropped low, sweeping his weapon across the floorboards, firing through the lower drywall to take out the lead shooter's legs.
The man collapsed with a scream, and Adrian neutralized him with a clean, lethal shot before spinning to face the third attacker.
The remaining mercenary lunged forward with a combat blade, tackling Adrian against the floor.
The heavy knife flashed downward, slicing through Adrian’s forearm, but Adrian caught the attacker's wrist with an iron grip.
Using the attacker's own momentum, Adrian rolled backward, driving his heel into the man's solar plexus and throwing him head-first into the heavy glass coffee table.
The glass shattered in an explosion of crystal, and the mercenary went limp among the shards.
Breathing heavily, blood dripping from his sliced forearm onto the ruined rug, Adrian stood up.
He reloaded his weapon with a single fluid motion, his dark eyes locking onto the foyer.
Victor Vale stood alone near the elevator, clutching a silver revolver with both hands, his face drenched in sweat and twisted in pure, manic desperation.
"You always were your father's favorite dog, Adrian," Victor sneered, his gun wavering as his hands shook uncontrollably.
"He thought you were so honorable! But you're just a killer in a ten-thousand-dollar suit!"
Adrian walked toward his uncle with slow, deliberate steps, ignoring the blood dripping from his fingers.
"My father built this family on loyalty, Victor," Adrian said, his voice vibrating with thunderous power.
"You built your fortune on Daniel Brooks's blood."
"Daniel was an insect!" Victor screamed, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"He should have taken the bribe! He should have looked the other way!"
"Daniel had something you will never understand, Victor," Adrian whispered, stopping five feet from the trembling barrel.
"He had honor. And he had a family."
A muffled shot echoed from the elevator vestibule.
Victor’s eyes widened in sheer shock as a red flower bloomed across his shoulder.
He dropped the silver revolver, spinning around to see Mason standing in the corridor, a tactical rifle smoking in his hands.
Behind Mason, Chicago Police SWAT operators poured out of the emergency stairwells, their laser reticles locking onto Victor’s chest.
"Victor Vale, drop to your knees!" the lead tactical commander barked.
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Victor collapsed onto the bloody marble, weeping in pathetic, humiliating defeat as steel handcuffs clicked tightly around his wrists.
Adrian lowered his weapon, exhaling a long, ragged breath as the sirens wailed sixty floors below.
