Chapter 13: The Panic Room
Back in the mansion, the cartel leader was growing impatient.
"Report!" he barked into his radio, standing in the center of the grand study.
Silence.
"Alpha Two, report!"
Nothing. The two men he had sent upstairs were gone.
"He's picking us off," the leader growled to the three men standing with him. "Burn the house down. If we can't find him, we smoke him out."
"Boss," a voice crackled over the radio. It was one of the men sweeping the basement. "You need to get down here. We found a dead body. Looks like the brother. But there's something else. There's a localized power draw coming from behind a false wall. It’s a titanium vault door. Someone is inside."
Adrian, listening from the air vents above the first-floor hallway, felt his blood run cold.
They found the panic room.
He didn't care about stealth anymore. He kicked out the vent grate and dropped down into the hallway, landing in a crouch. He sprinted toward the main staircase, completely ignoring the mercenaries on the ground floor.
"There he is!" a guard shouted from the foyer, raising his assault rifle.
Adrian didn't stop running. He unleashed a blind volley of suppressive fire down the stairs, forcing the guards to dive for cover behind the marble pillars. Bullets chewed the banister to splinters as Adrian vaulted over the railing, skipping the last ten steps and landing heavily on the ground floor. He rolled, came up on one knee, and fired again, dropping a guard who had peeked out from behind a statue.
He scrambled down the basement stairs, his heart pounding against his ribs like a sledgehammer.
In the basement corridor, three mercenaries had set up a thermal breaching torch against the panic room door. The blinding blue-white flame was already cutting into the heavy metal, throwing a shower of sparks into the dark hallway.
Inside the panic room, Rachel backed into the farthest corner, holding Emma tightly behind her. She raised the 9mm Glock, her hands shaking violently, aiming directly at the spot where the metal was glowing cherry-red.
"Close your eyes, baby," Rachel whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Don't look."
Adrian burst into the basement corridor.
"Hey!" he roared.
The three mercenaries spun around.
Adrian didn't give them a chance to raise their weapons. He held down the trigger of the MP5, sweeping the narrow corridor. The enclosed space amplified the gunfire into a deafening roar. Two of the mercenaries were torn apart instantly, collapsing against the stone walls.
The third—the man holding the breaching torch—dropped the heavy equipment and dove behind a concrete support pillar. He pulled a sidearm and fired blindly around the corner.
A bullet grazed Adrian’s side, tearing through the Kevlar vest and ripping a shallow trench across his ribs.
Adrian grunted in pain, stumbling sideways, but he didn't stop moving forward. He dropped the empty MP5, pulled his backup shotgun, and rushed the pillar. He rounded the corner, shoved the barrel of the shotgun into the mercenary’s chest, and pulled the trigger.
The man flew backward, dead before he hit the ground.
Adrian leaned against the wall, clutching his bleeding side, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The basement was quiet again, save for the hiss of the abandoned breaching torch.
He limped toward the panic room door, pressing his hand against the hot titanium.
"Rachel," Adrian gasped. "It's Adrian. Claire. I'm saying Claire."
The heavy deadbolts violently clicked back. The door swung open.
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Rachel stood there, pale as a ghost, still gripping the pistol. When she saw Adrian covered in blood and soot, she dropped the gun and fell to her knees, pulling Emma into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
"You're safe," Adrian breathed, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "You're safe."
