Chapter 8 - Siege in the Ivory Tower
The sound of shattering glass echoed from the ground-floor foyer like a burst of thunder.
Heavy combat boots thundered up the grand staircase.
“They’re breaching the east wing!” Falcone barked into his encrypted comms device clipped to his collar. “Hold the corridor! Let no one pass!”
He grabbed my arm, pulling me swiftly behind the massive reinforced steel pillar in the center of the library.
“Stay down, Delaney,” he commanded, pressing a small, suppressed sidearm into my trembling hands. “If anyone comes through that door who isn't one of my men, you pull the trigger. Do you understand?”
I looked down at the cold metal of the gun, then up into his fierce, unyielding eyes.
“I understand,” I whispered, nodding.
Falcone spun around, moving with predatory grace toward the library doors just as they blew inward in a shower of splintered wood and flying brass.
Three masked mercenaries rushed into the room, their submachine guns raised.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Falcone fired three rapid shots with terrifying precision.
All three men dropped instantly, crashing hard against the Persian rug.
Before Falcone could reload, a massive figure charged through the smoke from the hallway.
Marcus Vance himself.
Vance was a hulking brute with a jagged scar running down his cheek, wielding a heavy tactical shotgun.
“Falcone!” Vance roared, swinging the barrel toward him.
Falcone ducked beneath the sweep, driving his elbow upward into Vance’s ribs with bone-crushing force.
Vance grunted, staggering backward, but managed to level the shotgun straight at Falcone’s chest.
My breath caught in my throat.
Without thinking, I raised the pistol Falcone had given me, aimed through the swirling smoke, and pulled the trigger.
BANG.
The bullet struck the wooden doorframe right beside Vance’s head, showering him in splinters.
Vance flinched in sheer shock, turning his gaze toward me for a split second.
That single split second was all Augustus Falcone needed.
Falcone lunged forward, grabbed the barrel of Vance’s shotgun, twisted it violently upward, and delivered a devastating roundhouse kick straight to Vance’s jaw.
Vance collapsed like a felled tree, unconscious on the floor.
Silence descended upon the library, broken only by the crackle of distant security alarms and the heavy breathing of the man standing before me.
Falcone slowly straightened his jacket, wiped a speck of dust from his sleeve, and turned his gaze toward me.
A slow, fierce smile broke across his face.
May you like
“Remind me never to underestimate you, Delaney,” he murmured, walking over and gently taking the smoking pistol from my trembling fingers.
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