Chapter 5 - The Glass Cage
Thirty-five minutes later, three black SUVs shattered the quiet of the private wooded lane leading to the Russo Estate in Greenwich.
The heavy iron security gates at the perimeter entrance were standing wide open. The two security guards assigned to the gatehouse were lying motionless on the stone floor inside, bound and unconscious, their communications gear smashed to pieces.
Damian stepped out of the lead vehicle before it had fully stopped, holding an automatic pistol in his right hand.
"Secure the grounds!" Leo shouted, leading six armed men across the sweeping front lawn toward the grand neo-classical mansion. "Thermal sweeps on the upper floors! Cut the primary power grid and switch to local battery backup!"
Damian didn't wait for his men. He walked through the heavy front oak doors of his mansion, his boots sounding loud against the polished marble foyer.
The house was dark, silent, and smelling faintly of ozone and expensive leather.
He descended the wide stone staircase leading down to the lower subterranean levels—past the private gym, past the safe room, down into the deep stone cellar constructed beneath the original nineteenth-century foundations of the estate.
He kicked open the heavy iron door of the wine cellar.
The space was lit by a single bare bulb hanging from a exposed wire in the center of the low ceiling.
Sitting in the center of the room, bound to an iron chair, was Khloe.
Her dark brown hair was loose, hanging over her shoulders. She was pale, her breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps through her nose.
Beside her chair stood a tall, slender man wearing a tailored grey suit. He had slicked-back dark hair, cold blue eyes, and a thin, surgical scar running from the corner of his left mouth down to his collar.
Julian Valenti.
Julian held an ivory-handled revolver casually at his side, his thumb resting lightly on the hammer.
"Hello, Damian," Julian said softly, his voice carrying a smooth, cultured European accent. "Welcome back to your beautiful home."
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Damian raised his weapon, locking the sight directly onto Julian’s forehead. "Step away from her, Julian. Or I will leave your body in this dirt."
Julian smiled—a thin, lifeless expression that didn't reach his cold eyes. "You always were so wonderfully direct, Damian. But if you take one step across that line, my men on the upper level will detonate the charges wired to your perimeter security feeds. And your precious secretary will die in the collapse."
