Chapter 9 - Siege in the Dark
The sudden blackout swallowed the manor. Downstairs in the ballroom, screams of panic erupted as hundreds of elite guests stumbled into one another in terror.
"Emergency lockdown!" Nathaniel roared into his earpiece, but static hiss was the only reply. The cellular networks and satellite signals were being jammed simultaneously.
"Nathaniel," Eleanor breathed, clutching her cane.
"Rose, stay behind me," Nathaniel ordered, pulling a concealed Glock from a hidden holster under the desk—a weapon he had never intended to touch in his own home.
"I'm not leaving Eleanor," Rose insisted, grabbing a heavy brass paperweight from the side table. Her senses, honed by years of surviving in the city's rougher districts, were on razor-sharp alert. "Listen. That wasn't just a grid failure. Footsteps on the terrace roof."
Heavy, rhythmic thuds echoed from above—the distinct sound of tactical boots descending via zipline. Glass shattered across the high skylight overhead.
Shards of glass rained down into the grand foyer. Two masked men dressed in black combat gear rappelled into the second-story mezzanine. Red laser sights swept through the darkness, darting across portraits of Vance ancestors before converging on the door of the private study.
"Vance!" a distorted electronic voice shouted through a megaphone. "Surrender the former maid, and Eleanor Vance walks away unharmed! Refuse, and the entire house burns with you inside!"
Nathaniel kicked the heavy mahogany desk on its side, creating an impenetrable barricade between the entrance and the women. "They want Rose," he hissed, his eyes blazing with murderous fury. "Arthur Thorne wants to eliminate the primary witness against Victoria."
"Over my dead body," Rose said, stepping beside Nathaniel, her jaw set. "If I die, the state's deposition is sealed with my testimony. Victoria knows she’s doomed if I live to take the stand."
"They're not touching you," Nathaniel vowed.
Suddenly, a canister hissed through the broken transom above the door, rolling across the Persian rug. Thick, white tear gas began billowing into the room.
"Masks!" Nathaniel pulled two gas filters from a hidden panel in the wall, jamming one over his mother’s face and handing the other to Rose.
"Take it, Nathaniel!" Rose tried to push it back.
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"Put it on, Rose!" he demanded, his voice cracking with desperation. "I cannot lose you!"
The heavy oak doors were blown inward with a deafening blast.
