Chapter 8 - The Battle of Greenwich
“Security team, report!” Adrian barked into his shoulder radio as he bolted out of the kitchen, pulling his pistol from his waistband.
“Boss! They blew the front gates!” the security chief’s voice crackled through the static over the radio. “Three vehicles! They’re heavily armed! We’re engaging them in the driveway!”
The sound of distant gunfire echoed through the dense woods outside the mansion.
Nia sprinted up the stairs toward the children’s bedrooms.
The four boys were already out of bed, standing in the hallway in their pajamas, terrified by the screaming alarms and flashing red lights.
“Miss Nia!” Luke cried, running into her arms.
“It’s okay, sweetie! I’m right here!” Nia said, picking Luke up while ushering Evan, Caleb, and Noah toward the reinforced panic room hidden behind the bookshelf in Adrian’s master study.
“Get inside, quickly!” Nia ordered, keying in the security code Adrian had given her earlier that day. The heavy steel door slid open, revealing a comfortable, soundproof room stocked with food, water, and communication monitors.
“Miss Nia, aren't you coming in?” Evan asked, grabbing her sleeve as the boys piled inside.
“I have to make sure your father is okay,” Nia said softly, kneeling down to look Evan in the eye. “Stay inside. Lock the door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone except me or your dad. Do you understand?”
Evan swallowed hard, then nodded firmly. “Be careful, Nia.”
Nia pulled the steel door shut and secured the lock.
Downstairs, the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass echoed through the house. Victor Vance’s men had breached the rear terrace doors.
Nia crept down the dark hallway, grabbing a heavy brass floor lamp from a side table to use as a weapon. She navigated the darkness with total silent grace learned from years of working in dangerous urban neighborhoods.
In the grand foyer, Adrian was engaging two armed men from behind the stone pillars. His movements were swift, calculated, and lethal. He fired three precise shots, taking down both intruders before they could raise their weapons.
Suddenly, a shadow lunged from the side hall—Victor Vance himself, holding a heavy iron bar.
Victor slammed the bar into Adrian’s arm, knocking the gun from his grip. The weapon skittered across the marble floor toward the staircase.
Adrian grunted in pain, swinging a massive left hook that caught Victor in the jaw, sending the older man stumbling backward. But Victor quickly recovered, raising a heavy knife, his eyes wild with murderous rage.
“I’m taking everything from you, Vale!” Victor screamed, lunging forward aimed straight at Adrian’s chest.
Adrian, his arm injured from the iron bar, ducked to block, but he was slightly off-balance.
Out of nowhere, Nia sprinted across the foyer, swinging the heavy brass floor lamp with all her strength.
CRACK!
The heavy base of the lamp struck Victor Vance squarely across the side of his head.
Victor let out a strangled groan, his eyes rolling back as he crashed face-first onto the marble floor, unconscious. The knife clattered harmlessly away.
Adrian stared at Victor’s motionless body, then looked up at Nia, who stood over the fallen crime boss, breathing heavily, holding the dented brass lamp like a warrior queen.
“I told you,” Nia gasped, a small smile breaking across her face. “I don't cry.”
Adrian let out a breathless, booming laugh, pulling her into his arms and kissing her deeply on the lips right there in the middle of the ruined, battle-torn foyer.
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Outside, the siren lights of the Connecticut State Police and Federal Agents flooded the driveway. Adrian’s covert contacts in federal law enforcement—who had been monitoring Victor Vance’s illegal empire for months—swept onto the property, arresting the remaining henchmen and taking Victor into federal custody in handcuffs.
The war was over.
