Chapter 9 - The Ambush at the Gate
The fragile peace at the Mercer estate came to a violent end on a chilly Thursday evening.
The rain had returned, slicking the stone driveways and casting a thick fog over the surrounding pine forests. Audrey was in the kitchen with Dolores, helping prepare the evening dinner, while Brinley sat at the long wooden island, happily eating a bowl of sliced strawberries.
Suddenly, the heavy iron estate alarm tore through the quiet house—a loud, rhythmic klaxon accompanied by flashing red lights along the corridors.
Audrey gasped, dropping a glass bowl, which shattered into a thousand pieces on the tile floor.
"What is that?!" Audrey screamed, panic instantly seizing her chest.
Dolores's face went completely pale. "Lockdown. Someone breached the outer perimeter."
Before Audrey could move, the kitchen side door slammed open. Reggie Shaw stepped into the room, wearing a tactical vest and holding an assault rifle. His face was covered in dark rain and sweat.
"Get the kid," Reggie ordered sharply, pointing at Audrey. "Move! Now! Standard lockdown protocol—the safe room in the central basement."
Audrey didn't hesitate. She lunged forward, grabbing Brinley off the stool and clutching her tightly against her chest. Brinley, startled by the loud alarms and the sudden movement, buried her face in Audrey's neck, clinging desperately to her mother's tunic.
"What's happening?" Audrey cried out as Reggie led them down the fast service corridor toward the heavy basement stairs.
"Sal Moretti," Reggie growled, checking his weapon's sight as they moved. "He brought thirty men through the north gate. He thinks he caught us off guard."
They reached the heavy steel doors leading to the basement stairs. But before Reggie could punch the security code into the electronic keypad, the heavy glass doors at the end of the side hallway shattered into thousands of sharp fragments.
Three armed men in dark raincoats burst through the broken glass, carrying automatic weapons. They were Moretti's hitmen, sent to secure the domestic wing and take hostages.
"There they are!" one of the gunmen shouted, raising his weapon. "Take the woman and the kid!"
Reggie didn't hesitate. He stepped in front of Audrey and Brinley, raising his rifle and firing three precise, devastating shots. The lead gunman collapsed to the floor instantly. The other two hitmen dove behind the stone pillars for cover, returning fire.
Deafening gunshots echoed through the narrow stone corridor. Plaster rained down from the ceiling as bullets tore through the walls. Audrey screamed, dropping to her knees and covering Brinley's body with her own, taking the full force of falling debris on her back.
Brinley began to cry—a terrified, sharp scream that cut through the thunder of gunfire.
Reggie exchanged rapid shots with the hitmen, but he was pinned down. "Audrey! Get through the door! Run!" he roared, slamming his back against the wall as bullets chipped the stone inches from his head.
One of the Moretti hitmen flanked around the pillar, grinning wickedly as he aimed his pistol directly at Audrey and the crying child on the floor.
"Say goodnight, sweet—"
Before the hitman could pull the trigger, a hand like a hydraulic vice locked onto his throat from behind.
Jude Mercer had arrived.
Jude moved not like a human being, but like a terrifying, unstoppable force of nature. He wrenched the gunman backward, slamming his head against the stone wall with a sickening crunch that echoed down the hallway. The man dropped limp to the floor.
The third hitman turned in sheer panic, trying to bring his gun up, but Jude stepped into his guard, disarmed him with a swift, brutal strike, and fired two quick shots from his black pistol, dropping the man instantly.
The corridor went instantly silent, save for the blaring security alarm and the soft, terrified sobs of three-year-old Brinley.
Jude stood in the center of the hallway, surrounding by smoke and shell casings. His dark suit jacket was torn, his knuckles were bloody, and his eyes held a terrifying, lethal rage that looked entirely inhuman. He was the monster the city feared—the ruthless devil who had killed dozens of men to build his empire.
He slowly turned his head, his dark gaze landing on Audrey and Brinley huddled on the cold floor.
Audrey looked up at him through her tears, shivering with shock, clutching her sobbing daughter as tightly as she could.
When Jude’s eyes fell upon Brinley, the terrifying, murderous rage in his face instantly vanished, replaced by an intense, desperate concern.
He dropped his smoking gun into his shoulder holster, stepped over the fallen hitmen without a glance, and dropped to his knees right in front of Audrey and Brinley.
"Are you hit?" Jude demanded, his deep voice trembling slightly—a sound Reggie had never heard from him in fifteen years. "Audrey! Is she hurt?!"
"No... no," Audrey gasped, checking Brinley's arms and legs with shaking hands. "She's... she's okay. She's just scared."
Jude reached out his large, bloody hands, hesitation visible in his tight frame. He didn't want to touch the child with blood on his fingers.
But Brinley, hearing his voice, opened her tear-filled eyes. She looked through the smoke and the smell of gunpowder, saw Jude kneeling before her, and reached her small arms straight toward him.
"Mister!" Brinley sobbed, reaching out. "Mister, I'm scared!"
Jude didn't hesitate for another second. He gathered the tiny girl into his broad arms, lifting her against his chest, holding her head against his neck, completely unconcerned with the blood staining his shirt.
Brinley wrapped her small arms tightly around his thick neck, burying her face in his shoulder, her small body shaking with sobs.
Jude wrapped his large arms around her, burying his face in her soft blonde hair, closing his eyes as he let out a long, shuddering breath.
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"I've got you," Jude whispered, his voice deep, soft, and filled with a fierce, unbreakable devotion. "I've got you, little one. Nothing in this world is going to hurt you. I promise."
Reggie stood near the broken glass, holding his rifle, watching his cold, terrifying boss cradle a three-year-old child like a precious treasure in the middle of a warzone. Reggie knew right then that the war with Sal Moretti was already over—because Moretti had just made the fatal mistake of threatening the only thing Jude Mercer loved.
