Chapter 9 - The Siege
The distant sound of shattered glass echoed up through the elevator shafts.
The Volkov men had breached the lobby.
Roman stood by the door of Clara’s room, his gun drawn.
He dialed Marcus again.
"Status," Roman demanded.
"They blew the front doors, Boss," Marcus yelled over the sound of gunfire.
"We are holding them at the stairwells, but they have heavy artillery."
Roman cursed under his breath.
He couldn't leave Clara, but his men were outnumbered.
"Hold the line," Roman commanded.
"I am calling in the reserves."
He dialed another number, this one connecting directly to his underground casino miles away.
"Send every available hitter to St. Jude’s," Roman barked.
"Volkov is making a play."
"Yes, Boss, but the roads are still terrible," the voice replied.
"Take snowmobiles if you have to!" Roman roared.
"Just get here!"
He pocketed the phone and looked at Clara.
She was trembling, clutching the bedsheets to her chest.
"I am sorry I brought this to you," he said softly.
"This is why I ran," she cried.
"I couldn't raise a child in a war zone."
"You don't have to," Roman promised, his eyes dark with lethal intent.
"After tonight, there won't be a war."
"There will only be ashes."
Gunfire erupted much closer this time, somewhere on the floor below them.
The stairwell was failing.
Roman stepped out into the hallway, signaling two of his personal guards.
"Barricade this door," he ordered.
"If I fall, you take her and the child to the roof."
"The chopper is waiting out the storm."
The men nodded grimly.
May you like
Roman racked the slide of his gun.
He was going hunting.
