Connor Brennan has come for me.
19
LEO
The first shot shatters the front window of my office.
I’m on my feet before the glass hits the floor, gun already in my hand even though I don’t remember drawing it. My training immediately kicks in. In this life, hesitation gets you killed.
“What the fuck is going on!” I bark into my phone.
Marcus’s voice comes back tense and clipped. “Brennan. At least fifty men, maybe more. They’re hitting us from—fuck, they’reeverywhere, boss. Front gates, I’ve got visual on the tree line to the west?—”
The line cuts out as an explosion rocks the house. It’s not close enough to be inside, but close. Too close. I can smell smoke.
Fifty men. Fuck.
I move to the window, keeping low. Broken glass crunches under my shoes. Through the shattered window I can see at least fifteen men advancing across the front lawn, using the garden walls and fountain for cover. They have military-grade gear andare moving in coordination. This isn’t some desperate rescue attempt—this is a coordinatedassault.
Connor Brennan finally has declared war.
My security is good. I’ve got sixty men on the property, all armed and trained. But we’re defending, which means we’re at a disadvantage. And fifty to sixty isn’t great odds when they’ve got the element of surprise and the aggression.
Emma. Where’s Emma?
The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. She was in our bedroom this morning. Is she still there? Is she safe? Did Connor send men through the windows, is she already?—
No. Focus. I can’t help her if I’m dead.
More gunfire erupts and it’s closer this time. Is it inside the house? I can’t tell. Glass breaks somewhere. Someone screams—one of my men or one of theirs, I don’t know.
“All units,” I say into the radio, my voice calmer than I feel. “Brennan has superior numbers, but we have superior position. Hold your ground. Do not—I repeat, donot—advance beyond the house perimeter. Make them come to us.”
I need to get to Emma. Need to?—
My phone rings. Antonio.
“Second floor is secure,” he reports, gunfire crackling in the background. “We’ve got good angles from the balcony, they can’t advance on the front without taking heavy fire.”
“And the west side?” I demand.
“Luca’s got it. They’re testing us but nothing serious yet.”
That’s two sides. Front and west. Which means?—
“What about east?” I ask, already heading toward the stairs.
“Haven’t heard from—” Antonio’s voice cuts off as more gunfire erupts. “Fuck, they’re pushing again, I gotta go.”
The line goes dead.
East side. That’s where the service entrance is. The old access point from when this place was built in the 1920s. It’s a thick oak door with modern reinforcement, but it’s still the weakest point in the house’s defenses. The architect who designed the security upgrades wanted to replace it entirely, but I refused because it’s original to the house and has historical value.
I could kick myself now for such stupid fucking sentimental thoughts. And now Connor’s using that weakness against me.
Worse, if they breach that door, they’ll be in the service hallway with direct access to the kitchen, the back stairs, and the whole ground floor. They could spread through the house like wildfire.
I’m running now, sprinting up the stairs. My phone is ringing again but I ignore it. All that matters is getting to Emma, getting her somewhere safe where Connor can’t?—