Chapter 5 - The Darkness at 2 A.M.
By 1:45 a.m., every light inside the Voss estate had been systematically extinguished.
The sprawling stone mansion sat completely dark against the roaring storm, a silent mountain silhouette surrounded by pine trees whipping in the gale-force wind.
Inside the master bedroom suite, Vera sat on the edge of the blue silk canopy bed in total darkness. She had taken off her boots, sitting in her socks, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird.
The heavy mahogany doors leading to the corridor were locked from the inside.
Beside her, leaning against the bedpost in the pitch-black room, stood Nikolai.
He had removed his dress shirt, wearing a dark tactical turtleneck, a reinforced Kevlar vest strapped tightly across his torso, and two heavy black sidearms holstered beneath his shoulders. He was completely silent, his breathing so shallow and measured that Vera couldn't even hear him over the sound of the wind outside.
“Nikolai?” she whispered into the dark.
“Quiet, Vera,” his deep voice rasped softly near her ear, his breath warm against her cheek. “They cut the main power lines at the gate two minutes ago. Auxiliary generators are suppressed to keep the house looking completely dead.”
“Where is Dmitri?”
“Dmitri and four men are waiting in the subterranean utility tunnel beneath the kitchen,” Nikolai murmured. “If Vance’s team breaches the north perimeter, they will walk directly into a crossfire. But Vance is smart. He won't use the doors.”
As if on cue, a faint, metallic scraping sound echoed from the heavy bulletproof glass windows overlooking the lake balcony.
Vera froze, her fingers clutching the silk duvet.
Through the sheer curtains, she saw two dark shadows materialize on the third-floor stone balcony—men in black tactical gear using suction climbing gear to scale the smooth granite exterior wall of the mansion.
They had bypassed the ground-level guards entirely by climbing the cliffside.
One of the shadows pulled a heavy hydraulic glass cutter from his utility belt, pressing it against the reinforced pane.
Vera reached out in the darkness, her hand finding Nikolai’s arm. His arm was like iron, his muscles locked in dead-still preparation.
“Stay behind me,” Nikolai breathed into her hair. “Whatever happens, do not leave this bed.”
CRACK.
The hydraulic cutter fractured the multi-layered glass, and the heavy window pane was pushed inward, crashing onto the carpeted floor with a dull thud.
Cold mountain air and freezing rain instantly flooded into the master bedroom, blowing the silk curtains wild into the room.
Two armed figures dropped smoothly through the ruined window frame, their suppressed assault rifles raised, night-vision goggles glowing faint green over their eyes.
“Target is on the bed!” one of the men barked in a harsh whisper, raising his rifle toward Vera’s silhouette.
He never got the chance to clear his safety catch.
Nikolai moved out of the shadows with blinding, violent speed.
He closed the six feet of distance before the hitman could adjust his night-vision focus. Nikolai’s left hand caught the barrel of the assault rifle, driving it upward into the ceiling, while his right fist—reinforced by a hard tactical glove—struck the hitman squarely in the throat.
The man let out a strangled, breathless gasp, stumbling backward into his partner.
Nikolai didn't draw his firearm. He used the confined space and the darkness to his absolute advantage. He grabbed the second man by his tactical vest, spinning him around, and drove his knee violently into his spine, slamming him face-first into the heavy stone hearth of the fireplace.
The first hitman, choking for air, pulled a combat knife from his chest rig, lunging wild through the dark toward Nikolai’s shadow.
Nikolai stepped inside the blade’s arc, caught the man’s wrist, and twisted it with a horrific, snapping crunch. The hitman screamed, dropping the knife, but Nikolai swept his leg out, slamming him flat onto his back on the wool rug.
In less than twelve seconds, both intruders were broken and neutralized on the floor.
Nikolai stood in the center of the dark room, his chest heaving slightly, his hands covered in dark blood, looking like an ancient, vengeful deity rising from the storm.
Outside on the balcony, a third voice shouted over the wind in panic: “Team Alpha is down! Detonate the charge! Detonate—”
A heavy gunshot echoed from the balcony as Dmitri’s security team cleared the exterior wall from the roof above.
The third hitman fell backward over the stone railing, vanishing into the abyss of the cliffside three hundred feet below.
Silence descended upon the master bedroom once more, broken only by the whistling wind rushing through the shattered window.
Nikolai turned slowly toward the bed, stepping over the unconscious bodies on his floor.
He reached out in the dark, his large, rough hand finding Vera’s shaking chin, lifting her face up so he could look into her eyes in the dim moonlight filtering through the storm clouds.
“Are you hurt?” Nikolai demanded, his voice thick with an overwhelming, raw emotion he could no longer suppress. “Vera, answer me. Did they touch you?”
“No,” Vera gasped, tears finally spilling over her lashes as she looked up at his blood-stained hands and fierce grey eyes. “No, Nikolai... I’m okay. I’m okay.”
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Nikolai let out a long, ragged breath, his forehead dropping forward to rest gently against hers in the darkness of the ruined room.
“Good,” he growled softly, his fingers shifting to cup the back of her neck, pulling her close against his armored chest. “Because the war is over. And by dawn, every man who sent them will be dead.”
