Chapter 6 - The Battle for the Estate
The rain outside fell in torrents, creating a thick sheet of water against the estate's high stone walls.
Four black speedboats had cut their engines two hundred yards off the shore of Lake Michigan, drifting silently onto the estate’s private beach under the cover of the power outage. Twelve men in tactical wetsuits, carrying short-barreled automatic rifles, scrambled up the rocky cliff face using titanium grappling hooks.
They were Marcus Voss’s elite enforcement squad—mercenaries hired to burn the Vale estate to the ground and retrieve the physical ledgers stored in Dominic's private vault.
Inside the dark castle, Dominic stood on the grand balcony of the library, overlooking the main foyer. He held a custom matte-black pistol, his face completely devoid of emotion.
Beside him, Vincent monitored the thermal security feeds on a handheld tablet.
"They're through the lower patio doors, Boss," Vincent whispered. "Eight men moving toward the central hallway. Four heading around to the east wing."
"The east wing is empty," Dominic said coldly. "Clare and Ellie are in the bedrock vault."
Suddenly, the heavy glass windows of the main foyer shattered as flashbang grenades exploded inside.
BANG! BANG!
Blinding white light and deafening sound filled the grand entrance. The mercenaries burst through the smoke, weapons raised, moving in a tight tactical diamond formation.
"Clear the floor!" the lead mercenary barked. "Find the server room!"
From the high balcony above, Dominic didn't even flinch.
"Now, Vincent," Dominic commanded.
Vincent pressed a button on his remote.
The estate's automated security shutters—heavy three-inch steel plates—slammed down over every door and window with a deafening thud. The mercenaries were instantly trapped inside the marble foyer, cut off from their escape routes.
From the dark upper balconies, Dominic's internal security team opened fire with non-lethal rubber-jacketed rounds and heavy tear gas canisters.
The foyer exploded into chaotic gunfire and shouting. Marcus's mercenaries tried to fight back, but they were shooting blindly into the elevated shadows while Dominic's men picked them off with military precision.
Within four minutes, seven of the mercenaries were disarmed, pinned to the floor, and bound with heavy zip-ties.
The lead mercenary, bleeding from a tactical strike to his forehead, scrambled backward toward the library corridor, screaming into his wrist radio: "Marcus! The house is a trap! Pull back!"
He burst into the library, looking for an exit—only to find Dominic Vale standing directly in his path.
Dominic didn't use a gun. He stepped forward, dodged the mercenary’s rifle barrel with effortless speed, grabbed the man's throat, and slammed him face-first into the heavy oak conference table.
The rifle clattered across the floor.
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Dominic leaned over the groaning mercenary, his hand holding the man's neck firmly against the wood.
"Tell Marcus," Dominic whispered into the man's ear, "that I am coming for his docks tomorrow morning."
