Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Mansion
Elena’s heart slammed into her ribs like a trapped bird. She snatched the lantern off the floor and clicked it off, plunging the basement into near-total darkness.
Above them, the heavy front door of the mansion creaked open. Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor of the entryway, accompanied by the low, murmuring voices of two men.
“Stay behind the furnace,” Dominic breathed into the dark, his hand reaching out to find Elena’s arm, guiding her behind a massive, rusted iron heating unit in the far corner of the basement.
Elena pressed her back against the icy brick wall, her hand clamped tight over her mouth to muffle her breathing. The smell of rust and coal dust filled her nose.
Footsteps approached the top of the basement stairs. The heavy oak door creaked open, and the bright, harsh beam of a high-powered tactical flashlight cut down the wooden steps.
“Check the cellar,” Marcus’s voice rang out, sharp and cold from the doorway above. “If he’s dead, drag him out to the incinerator in the back. If he’s still breathing, bring him up. I’m tired of playing this game.”
“Got it, boss,” a rough, raspy voice replied.
Heavy boots began descending the creaking wooden stairs. One step. Two steps.
Elena looked at Dominic in the dim moonlight filtering through the storm window. He was crouched low beside her, ignoring the agonizing pain in his ribs. In his right hand, he held a long, sharpened iron spike he had pulled from the broken frame of an old cellar door earlier that morning.
He was weak, wounded, and outnumbered, but he looked like a predator preparing to strike.
The guard reached the bottom of the stairs. The flashlight beam swept across the concrete floor, lingering over the dark, dried pool of blood where Dominic had lain three days ago.
“What the hell?” the guard muttered, stepping forward. “Boss! He’s not here!”
“What do you mean he’s not here?!” Marcus yelled down from the top of the stairs. “Check the corners!”
The guard turned, his flashlight sweeping toward the furnace. The bright circle of light slid across the rusted iron, mere inches from where Elena stood holding her breath.
Dominic moved with terrifying speed.
Before the guard could shout, Dominic lunged out from behind the furnace. He grabbed the guard’s throat with his left hand, crushing his windpipe to suppress any scream, and drove the iron spike directly into the man’s right shoulder.
The guard let out a choked gasp, dropping the flashlight. Dominic twisted the man's arm, slammed his head violently against the iron furnace, and caught him as he went limp, lowering him silently to the concrete floor.
Elena stared in shock, her hands trembling violently.
Dominic rapidly searched the unconscious guard’s belt, unholstering a sleek, black 9mm Glock pistol and pocketing two spare magazines. He checked the chamber with a quiet, practiced click.
“Dominic!” Marcus’s voice boomed from the top of the stairs, accompanied by the metallic click of a handgun slide being pulled back. “I know you’re down there, brother! You think killing one of my men changes anything? Look out the window! I have three more guys surrounding the house!”
Dominic stepped out from behind the furnace, pulling Elena gently behind his shadow. He aimed the pistol at the top of the staircase.
“You always were bad at math, Marcus!” Dominic called back, his voice steady and echoing with lethal authority. “You brought four men to execute a ghost. You should have brought an army!”
May you like
Dominic fired two rapid shots through the top of the stairwell. The drywall exploded in a shower of plaster, forcing Marcus to yell in surprise and dive back into the hallway, slamming the basement door shut.
“We have thirty seconds before they breach the back exit!” Dominic said, turning to Elena, his eyes sharp and urgent. “We’re leaving. Now!”
