Chapter 12

Downstairs, the cinematic, bright lighting of the grand foyer had been entirely extinguished, replaced by the harsh, sweeping red strobes of the tactical security system. Alexander stood at the base of the grand marble staircase, bathed in the flashing crimson light. He had shed his tailored suit jacket, standing only in his unbuttoned white dress shirt and dark trousers.

He held a customized, suppressed automatic rifle effortlessly in his tattooed hands.

Marcus, the massive head of security, stepped out from the shadows. “Boss. Perimeter sensors indicate a coordinated breach on the eastern and southern walls. Multiple heavily armed hostiles. It’s a professional strike team.”

“Who sent them?” Alexander asked, his voice a low, vibrating hum of pure, lethal calm.

“Intel suggests it’s the remnants of the Chicago syndicate,” Marcus reported grimly. “They’re retaliating for the hostile takeover of their supply lines last month.”

Alexander’s cold, intimidating eyes narrowed into dark slits. The Chicago syndicate was foolish enough to believe that a coordinated assault on his home would break his resolve. They had severely miscalculated the monster they were dealing with.

“They breached the outer wall, they die in the gardens,” Alexander commanded softly, the controlled pauses in his speech echoing with absolute authority. “Do not let a single hostile set foot on my marble floors. Move out.”

The elite Hayes operators flooded out of the tactical exits, pouring into the freezing winter night. Alexander did not stay behind in the bunker. He racked the slide of his weapon and stalked toward the heavy front doors. The apex predator was going hunting.

 

>>Chapter 13