Chapter 13 - The Penthouse Siege
High above the foggy streets of San Francisco, inside the fortress-like penthouse on California Street, Aurora and Stella were sitting on a plush Persian rug, giggling as they played with a brand-new dollhouse Julian had ordered for them that morning. Watching over them was Marcus Vance—David’s younger brother and a highly trained tactical specialist who had been left in charge of the penthouse perimeter while David and Julian handled Sarah’s rescue.
Suddenly, the dedicated security monitor on the wall flickered from static to dead black.
Marcus Vance instantly dropped his coffee mug, his hand flying to his sidearm as he tapped his earpiece. “Lobby desk, report. What just happened to the building camera feed? Lobby desk, do you copy?”
Only static answered him. Then, the heavy, reinforced elevator doors at the end of the private hallway gave a strange, metallic groan. Someone had overridden the building’s master elevator control system from the basement and was forcing the car up to the seventy-fifth floor without a keycard.
“Girls! Under the table! Now!” Marcus ordered, his voice commanding as he drew his weapon and positioned himself behind the marble foyer partition.
Aurora grabbed Stella’s hand, both toddlers scurrying silently beneath the massive oak dining table, pulling a floor-length velvet tablecloth down around them to hide. They had learned from two years on the run with Nanny Sarah how to disappear the second an adult used that tone of voice.
The elevator doors slid open with a sharp ding. Four men wearing tactical utility vests and gas masks stepped out into the private hallway, carrying heavy kinetic breaching rams and non-lethal electrical stun rifles designed to incapacitate security personnel without drawing police gunfire.
“Security stand down!” the lead mercenary barked through his respirator, raising his stun rifle toward the foyer partition. “We’re here for the children! Hand them over and you live!”
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Marcus Vance didn't answer with words; he fired two precise, double-tap rounds into the chest plate of the lead mercenary, sending the man staggering backward into the elevator doors. But the remaining three mercenaries swarmed the foyer, deploying smoke canisters that filled the penthouse with thick, blinding grey fog.
Beneath the dining table, Stella began to cough softly from the acrid smoke. Aurora immediately clapped her small hand over her sister’s mouth, her own tiny heart pounding with terror in the darkness as heavy, thudding boots approached the dining room rug.
