Chapter 6 - The Assault on the Estate
Silas Mercer’s estate was a fortress of stone and iron, guarded by mercenaries who cared nothing for the Mercer family name, only the cold, hard cash Silas paid them. But they had never faced Gideon Mercer when he had something to fight for.
The assault began at midnight.
Pierce and his team bypassed the security grid, cutting the power to the main gates. The black SUVs slammed through the iron barriers, tires screeching against the gravel driveway. Gunfire shattered the night, muzzle flashes illuminating the dense woods like strobe lights.
Gideon was a force of nature. He moved through the courtyard with terrifying precision, his weapon speaking in lethal, rhythmic bursts. He wasn't the cold, calculating strategist tonight; he was a husband and a father reclaiming his life.
“Clear the ground floor!” Gideon barked over the radio as he kicked open the massive oak front doors of the mansion.
Two mercenaries turned the corner of the grand hallway, weapons raised, but Gideon was faster. Two shots, and they dropped. He stormed up the stairs, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He knew where Silas would be. The old man always retreated to his private vault in the basement when things went wrong—a reinforced panic room built to withstand a siege.
Gideon downshifted into the belly of the house, Pierce right at his heels. The air grew colder, smelling of concrete and old wine. At the end of a long, dimly lit corridor stood a massive steel door.
Standing in front of it was Silas Mercer.
The old man looked frail, his white hair combed back, leaning heavily on a gold-topped cane. But his eyes were sharp, full of the malice that had corrupted the family for generations.
“Gideon,” Silas said, his voice smooth, completely unbothered by the gunfire echoing upstairs. “I wondered how long it would take you to figure out Nolan’s mess.”
May you like
“Open the door, Silas,” Gideon said, raising his gun, aiming it directly between the old man’s eyes.
“Or what? You’ll shoot your own uncle?” Silas chuckled, a dry, raspy sound. “If you kill me, you’ll never get the code to this vault. And the air supply inside is on a timer. Your lovely wife has about twenty minutes of oxygen left. So, let’s talk business, nephew.”
