Chapter 9
The lockdown protocol engaged instantly. Heavy steel shutters slid down over the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, plunging the apartment into artificial light. The elevators were deactivated. The air felt heavy, charged with the static electricity of an impending war.
Clara stood in the center of the living room, feeling entirely out of her depth. She was a medic, not a soldier. She looked at Julian, who was currently unlocking a hidden armory behind a false wall in the hallway. He tossed a heavy, matte-black tactical vest to Victor, then grabbed an assault rifle, checking the chamber with practiced, lethal efficiency.
Samson paced back and forth in front of the reinforced front doors, a low, continuous growl vibrating in his massive chest. The dog knew violence was coming.
Julian walked over to Clara. He didn't offer her a gun. He knew she wouldn't know how to use it, and a panicked civilian with a firearm was a liability. Instead, he pulled a small, heavy object from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. It was a combat medical kit, packed tight with tourniquets, quick-clot gauze, and a syringe of epinephrine.
"You stay behind me," Julian ordered, his gaze intense, pinning her in place. "No matter what happens, you do not break cover. If Marcus's men breach the floor, you run to the panic room in the master suite and you lock the door."
"I can help," Clara argued, her pride flaring despite her fear.
"Your job is to keep us breathing when this goes wrong," Julian said, his voice softening just a fraction. He reached out, his calloused thumb brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. It was the first time he had touched her gently. The contrast between his violent preparations and that fleeting, tender gesture made Clara's breath hitch.
"He killed Elias," Clara whispered, looking up at him. "Don't let him walk away from this."
Julian’s eyes darkened. "Marcus is a dead man breathing. I’m just waiting for him to walk through that door to collect his corpse."
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Suddenly, the lights in the penthouse flickered, then died completely. The emergency red backup lights kicked on, bathing the room in a bloody, sinister glow.
"They cut the main power," Victor announced from the darkness. "They're in the stairwell."
