Chapter 6
Emily disappeared down the dark evacuation chute, holding tightly to Lily and Maya. The smooth metal spiraled sharply downward, plunging them into utter blackness before depositing them onto a padded landing mat in the subterranean garage. Emily hit the mat hard, cushioning the impact for the two little girls. She immediately rolled to her feet, her flats gripping the polished concrete, her pistol raised and scanning the cavernous space.
The garage was dimly lit by emergency battery-powered floor lights. It housed Ryan’s collection of luxury vehicles, but Emily’s eyes locked entirely on the massive, matte-black armored SUV parked near the reinforced steel exit doors.
"Stay behind me, girls. Move fast," Emily whispered, her elegant cream blouse now streaked with dust and sweat.
Lily and Maya clung to each other, their fair skin glowing pale in the low light. They scurried behind Emily as she moved tactically toward the vehicle. She pressed her thumb to the biometric scanner on the driver's door. It unlocked with a heavy clank. She ushered the girls into the reinforced back seat, shutting the heavy ballistic doors.
Before she could climb into the driver's seat, a slow, mocking clap echoed through the underground garage.
Emily spun around, raising her weapon.
Stepping out from behind a concrete pillar was a tall man wearing a tactical vest over a dark suit. He didn't have a weapon drawn, but his arrogant posture suggested he didn't need one. He had a shaved head and a prominent, intricate snake tattoo curling up the side of his neck.
The Viper.
"Well played, Mrs. Romano," the Viper said, his voice a gravelly rasp—the exact voice Maya had described. "But you really didn't think we’d leave the garage unguarded, did you?"
"Step out of the way," Emily said, her voice fiercely protective, her hands perfectly steady as she aimed for his chest. "I will not ask twice."
"You can shoot me," the Viper chuckled, spreading his arms. "But I have C4 rigged to the main support pillars of this garage. If my heart rate monitor flatlines, the detonator triggers. You, the kids, the cars, the house above us—all buried under a thousand tons of concrete."
Emily’s perceptive mind raced. She couldn't risk the girls, but she knew surrendering meant certain death.
Meanwhile, three floors above, Ryan stood in the dark closet. The reinforced steel door was beginning to buckle under the relentless assault from Marcus and his men. The metal hinges screamed, twisting out of alignment.
Ryan checked his watch. He had given Emily exactly two minutes to reach the garage. It was time.
He didn't wait for the door to break. He stepped back, raised his foot, and delivered a devastating front kick to the weakened door. The steel blew outward, slamming into the tactical team stacked in the hallway.
Ryan surged through the opening like a force of nature. His tailored black suit was covered in plaster, but his movements were fluid, aggressive, and entirely precise. He didn't fire blindly; he disarmed the first attacker, twisting the man's wrist until the rifle dropped, then drove an elbow into his jaw, sending him unconscious to the floor.
Marcus stumbled backward, raising his pistol, but Ryan was faster. He grabbed Marcus’s weapon hand, forcing the barrel upward, and slammed his knee into Marcus’s ribs. The traitor collapsed, gasping for air as Ryan kicked his gun away.
In less than twenty seconds, the hallway was clear, the attackers incapacitated on the plush carpet.
Ryan dragged Marcus up by the collar of his tactical gear, slamming him against the wall. The legendary Mafia boss’s eyes burned with a terrifying, unadulterated fury.
"Who sent you, Marcus?" Ryan roared, his voice shaking the crystal chandeliers in the hallway. "Who coordinated the strike?"
Marcus coughed up blood, a twisted, defiant smile spreading across his face. "You're too late, Ryan. The Viper is in the garage. He already has your wife and the brats."
Ryan’s heart stopped. The world around him went entirely cold. Without another word, he dropped Marcus, turned, and sprinted toward the main staircase. He moved with a speed and desperation he had never known, leaping down the marble steps three at a time, entirely consumed by the need to save the three people who mattered most in the world.
He hit the ground floor, sprinting through the luxurious kitchen and down the back stairwell that led to the garage. He burst through the access doors, his weapon raised, ready to unleash hell.
But he stopped dead in his tracks.
The garage was silent. The Viper was lying unconscious on the polished concrete floor, his hands zip-tied behind his back.
Emily was standing over him, her dark trousers scuffed, casually lowering a heavy steel wrench she had pulled from the tool bench. She looked up at Ryan, her delicate earrings swaying, her expression entirely calm.
"His heart rate monitor was a bluff," Emily said, tossing the wrench aside with a heavy clatter. "I noticed he was checking his watch to see if his backup was arriving. A man with a dead-man's switch doesn't care about backup."
Ryan stared at his beautiful, brilliant wife, a wave of profound relief washing over him. He walked over, wrapping his broad arms around her, burying his face in her hair.
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"You're incredible," Ryan whispered.
"I know," Emily said, hugging him back fiercely. "Now get in the car. We have to get the girls out of here before the rest of his team arrives."
