Chapter 10 - The Blood on the MarbleThe penthouse lobby was a sprawling masterpiece of modern architecture, featuring priceless art, imported marble, and floor-to-ceiling glass offering a panoramic view of Chicago.
Within minutes, it was transformed into a blood-soaked warzone.
Julian took cover behind a massive, solid-granite reception desk, his rifle resting steadily on the smooth surface.
Marcus and four of Julian's most elite, heavily armored guards took defensive positions around the elevator banks and the main stairwell entrance.
“They are coming through the stairs,” Marcus grunted, ejecting a spent magazine and loading a fresh one.
The heavy steel fire doors at the end of the hall suddenly groaned, bulging inward beneath the force of a breaching charge.
With a deafening roar, the doors blew outward, sending smoke and shrapnel flying across the pristine lobby.
Dozens of mercenaries poured through the smoke, heavily armed and wearing tactical combat gear bearing the insignia of Elias Sterling’s faction.
Julian didn't hesitate for a microsecond.
He opened fire, his weapon roaring to life in a deadly, controlled burst that instantly dropped the first three men through the door.
Marcus and the guards unleashed a torrent of suppressive fire, turning the hallway into a fatal funnel of flying lead.
The mercenaries scrambled for cover behind the marble pillars, returning fire that shattered the beautiful glass walls and shredded the expensive artwork.
Julian moved with terrifying, calculated efficiency, his face a mask of absolute, unyielding rage.
Every time a mercenary exposed an inch of flesh, Julian placed a bullet precisely where it needed to go.
He was fighting for his empire, yes.
But more importantly, he was fighting for the woman screaming in pain just a few rooms away, and the unborn child he had only just discovered he had.
“Flank them!” a mercenary yelled in Russian, trying to move around the right side of the lobby.
Julian drew his heavy sidearm with his left hand while keeping the rifle steady with his right, shooting the flanker perfectly between the eyes.
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“Nobody touches that hallway!” Julian roared over the gunfire, pointing toward the corridor leading to the medical wing.
He was a one-man army, fueled by a terrifying cocktail of adrenaline, love, and the absolute necessity to survive.
