Chapter 6 - The Safe Room Protocol
The crawl up the dumbwaiter shaft was a test of pure core strength and suffocating nerve. Tessa pressed her boots against the rough brickwork, her shoulders scraping against the centuries-old mortar as she hauled herself upward inch by agonizing inch.
Above her, she could hear the muffled, heavy voices of the remaining Russian mercenaries speaking in clipped military cadence.
*“Check the corner. Cover the staircase.”*
Tessa reached the second-floor service opening. The old wooden hatch was secured with two simple rusted latch bolts. She drew her tactical pocketknife, working the blade into the seam, easing the bolt back with absolute silence.
She peeked through the millimeter gap.
Two operatives stood with their backs to her, their carbines pointed downward toward the grand foyer where Marco was positioned. Between them lay the severed cables of the estate’s secondary communication relay.
Tessa took a slow, silent breath. Her heart was beating like a war drum against her ribs, but her hands were steady as ice.
*Now.*
She kicked the hatch open with both boots.
The wooden panel exploded outward, slamming into the back of the first mercenary with enough force to knock him off-balance. Before the second man could swing his rifle around, Tessa lunged forward, leveling the Sig Sauer Marco had given her.
*Crack. Crack.*
Two shots. Center mass. The heavy ceramic plates absorbed the rounds, but the kinetic impact knocked the operative backward into the mezzanine railing.
Downstairs, Marco didn't need an invitation.
The moment the shots rang out, Marco charged up the curved marble staircase like a force of nature. He cleared the five remaining steps in a single leap, his Glock barking in lethal rhythm. The blinded operative on the balcony took two rounds to the chest and tumbled over the balustrade, crashing onto the marble floor below.
The remaining mercenary lunged at Tessa, swinging the heavy stock of his carbine toward her skull. Tessa ducked underneath the blow, driving her tactical taser into his exposed throat and discharging the high-voltage capacitor.
The man convulsed violently, dropping to his knees, just as Marco reached the mezzanine. Marco caught the man by his tactical harness, hoisted him with terrifying strength, and slammed him against the wall with enough violence to crack the plaster.
“Who sent you?” Marco’s voice was a guttural roar.
The mercenary spat blood, his eyes wild. “You... you think this is over, Duca? Petrov has the whole block... the whole—”
Marco didn't let him finish. He drove the butt of his Glock into the man’s temple, knocking him into instant unconsciousness.
The mezzanine fell dead silent, save for the heavy sound of their ragged breathing.
Marco turned to Tessa.
She was standing against the broken dumbwaiter hatch, her catsuit torn at the shoulder, a thin line of blood trickling down her upper arm where a brick had scraped her skin during the climb. Her hair was wild, her eyes blown wide with adrenaline.
Marco crossed the floor in two strides. He dropped his weapon, seized her by the waist, and hauled her against his chest.
Tessa gasped as his arms locked around her like bands of forged steel. She didn't pull away. Instead, her hands found the back of his neck, her fingers tangling into his dark, thick hair.
“You’re insane,” Marco growled against her neck, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and overwhelming relief. “You’re completely out of your mind.”
“I cleared the high ground,” she whispered, her voice breathless against his collarbone. “That earns me at least an eight out of ten.”
Marco pulled back just enough to look at her face. The raw intensity in his dark eyes was terrifying. He didn't speak. He cupped her jaw with both hands, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones, and crushed his mouth down onto hers.
The kiss was violent, urgent, and fueled by the raw, primal fire of having looked death in the face and survived. Tessa parted her lips with a soft moan, pulling him closer, feeling the hard, lethal ridge of his body pressing into her curves. Marco kissed her like a man possessed, tasting the copper tang of battle and the intoxicating sweetness of her skin, claiming every breath she had left to give.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were shaking.
Marco’s forehead rested against hers, his hands still buried in her dark curls. “The audit is over, Tessa.”
May you like
“No,” she whispered, her eyes dark with passion and sharp intellect. “It’s not. Because whoever planned this hit didn't just guess your blind spots, Marco. They had your internal security override codes. Which means someone inside your organization opened that gate.”
***
