Chapter 4 - The Ghost of St. Jude
Z
The metallic hum of the vault's air filtration system was the only sound for a long, heavy minute. Outside the six-inch ballistic walls, the dull thud of heavy detonations vibrated through the floorboards. The Sovereign was systematically tearing Blackthorne House apart from the top down, clearing room by room, looking for the entrance to the subterranean levels.
Dominic stood over the primary terminal, his long fingers flying across the touch interface. His face was bathed in the harsh blue light of the monitors, casting deep, dramatic shadows over his sharp features.
"Marcus," Dominic commanded without looking away from the screen. "Initiate Protocol Omega."
Marcus paused, his hand hovering over his tactical belt. "Boss... Omega means blowing the subterranean tunnels and abandoning the estate entirely. Mercer Global’s main servers are routed through this basement. You’ll lose billions in encrypted intelligence."
"Let it burn," Dominic said coldly. "Intelligence can be rebuilt. My family cannot."
He looked back at me, his eyes locking onto mine with an unyielding intensity. "And that includes you, Amelia."
My heart did a strange, dangerous flip in my chest. I sat up on the edge of the examination table, fighting off the wave of nausea that washed over me. "Dominic, if you trigger Protocol Omega, we'll be trapped down here. Elias knows these tunnels better than anyone. He helped design the emergency runoff systems when our fathers worked together."
Dominic walked over to me, stepping into my personal space. He reached into a steel cabinet beside the table and pulled out a heavy black tactical vest, along with a small, sleek 9mm pistol.
"Then it's a good thing you know his mind better than he thinks," Dominic said, handing me the weapon.
I looked at the cold steel in my hand. It had been eight years since I held a gun. The last time was the night my father died, when I pulled a trigger into the dark smoke to escape the burning ruins of our home.
"I don't want to kill him," I whispered, my voice trembling. "He's my brother, Dominic."
"He ceased being your brother the moment he put a target on your chest and fired three rounds into you," Dominic replied, his voice devoid of mercy. "The man out there is a shadow of the boy you remember. He works for monsters, Amelia. And if you hesitate for even a fraction of a second when you see him again, he will put a bullet through your heart."
"He needs her alive to unlock the drive, Mr. Mercer," Marcus pointed out, strapping a fresh magazine into his assault rifle. "He won't kill her."
"He doesn't need all of her alive," Dominic countered grimly. "Just her brain and her heart beat. The Sovereign has medical technology that can keep a human body functioning in a vegetative state for years just to extract biological code."
A cold terror washed over me. I looked down at Caleb, who was sitting quietly on the couch, watching us with terrified, intelligent eyes. He was too smart for his age; he understood far more than a six-year-old ever should.
"I won't let them hurt him," I said, my resolve hardening as I looked at the boy. I racked the slide of the pistol, chambering a round with a sharp, metallic clack. "Where is the escape route?"
Dominic nodded, satisfied with my reaction. He turned to a hidden seam in the stainless-steel paneling near the back of the vault. He placed his hand on an optical scanner. A low chime sounded, and the wall slid open to reveal a narrow, dimly lit elevator shaft with a heavy manual ladder running along the side.
"This shaft leads to the old St. Jude drainage network beneath the river," Dominic explained. "It was constructed in the 1920s during Prohibition for bootlegging. It’s not on any city map or digital floor plan. It leads directly to a private boathouse two miles downriver."
"If it's not on any digital map, how do you know Elias doesn't know about it?" I asked.
"Because my grandfather killed the men who built it," Dominic answered without a shred of hesitation or remorse. "It’s a Mercer secret."
Before we could move toward the shaft, a massive shockwave hit the vault. The overhead lights flickered violently, red emergency strobes taking their place. The main vault door shuddered violently, a thick plume of gray smoke leaking through the top hydraulic seals.
"Thermite breaching charges!" Marcus shouted, raising his rifle toward the door. "They're burning through the hinges!"
"Marcus, take Caleb into the shaft," Dominic ordered, stepping between the door and his family. "Move!"
"Daddy, no!" Caleb cried out, struggling against Marcus as the head of security scooped him up. "I want to stay with you!"
"Listen to me, Caleb!" Dominic said, leaning down and grabbing his son’s shoulders, his voice firm yet filled with a fierce, burning love. "You go with Marcus. I will be right behind you. I promise."
Caleb sniffling, nodded reluctantly. Marcus stepped into the dark shaft, shielding the boy with his body as he began his descent down the narrow ladder.
Dominic turned to me, offering his hand. "Your turn."
"Not without you," I said standing my ground, despite the agony tearing through my stitched-up shoulder.
"Amelia, don't be a fool—"
"I told you, I'm not a maid anymore," I interrupted, staring him down. "And I'm not running away while you fight my brother alone. You need someone who knows how he thinks."
Dominic stared at me for a beat, a mix of frustration and dark admiration passing through his eyes. Before he could argue, the central steel plate of the vault door tore open with a sickening roar of melting metal and explosive pressure.
A flashbang grenade bounced into the room, blinding light and a deafening shockwave exploding through the space.
I was thrown backward by the pressure, hitting the floor hard as my vision filled with white noise and ringing ear-shattering sound. Pain tore through my body like liquid fire.
Through the haze of white light and distortion, I saw figures in dark tactical gear pouring through the breach.
Dominic moved like a whirlwind of lethal grace. Despite the blinding flash, he fired four controlled rounds from his sidearm, taking down the first two mercenaries instantly. But a third operative lunged forward, tackling Dominic into a rack of server equipment.
The pistol flew from Dominic’s hand, clattering across the slick floor toward me.
Dominic fought with brutal, military efficiency, driving an elbow into the operative's ribs and snapping his head back with a palm strike. But behind the first wave stepped a tall, slender figure in a dark tailored overcoat, completely unbothered by the smoke or noise.
Elias.
He stepped over the bodies of his fallen men, holding an ivory-handled revolver casually in his right hand. His pale scar burned bright red in the flashing emergency lights.
"Dominic Mercer," Elias drawled, his voice carrying clearly over the ringing in my ears. "The great corporate king, reduced to fighting in a dark basement like a street rat."
Dominic stood up slowly, wiping blood from his lip, his dark eyes fixed on my brother with pure venom. "You're late, Elias. Your men are sloppy."
"They're expendable," Elias replied smoothly. He raised his revolver and pointed it directly at Dominic’s forehead. "Where is my sister?"
Dominic didn't flinch. He didn't even look in my direction, keeping Elias’s focus locked entirely on himself. "She’s already gone. You lost, Elias."
"Did I?" Elias smiled—a cold, terrifying expression. He didn't pull the trigger. Instead, he shifted his gaze slowly down toward the floor near the elevator shaft.
toward me.
I was lying in the shadows behind an equipment locker, my hand gripping the cold steel of the 9mm pistol Dominic had given me. My arms were trembling so violently I could barely keep the sights aligned with Elias's chest.
"I know you're there, Amelia," Elias said softly, his voice dripping with sinister affection. "I could smell your perfume the moment I walked in. Rose and rain. You always were so predictable."
"Elias... stop," I choked out, pushing myself up onto one elbow, pointing the gun at him. "Please. Just stop."
Elias turned completely away from Dominic, taking a step toward me. "Look at you. Wearing the clothes of a Mercer. Serving the very family that signed our father's death warrant. Have you forgotten who you are, sister?"
"Our father was building a weapon!" I screamed, tears cutting through the dust on my face. "He was going to sell Lazarus to the highest bidder! He destroyed our family, Elias, not Dominic!"
"Father was a visionary!" Elias shouted back, his composure snapping for the first time, his scarred face twisting with rage. "He saw the world for what it is—a playground for billionaires like Mercer who hide behind high walls while the rest of us bleed! Lazarus was meant to even the score! It belongs to us!"
He took another step closer, holding out his left hand toward me while keeping his gun leveled at my heart.
"Give me the key, Amelia," Elias demanded, his voice softening into a dangerous, hypnotic coaxing. "Unlock the drive. Come home with me. We can rebuild everything they took from us."
"She’s not going anywhere with you," Dominic’s voice cut through the air.
Before Elias could react, Dominic lunged forward with unbelievable speed. He slammed his body into Elias, knocking the revolver from his hand. The two men crashed into the central control console, shattering glass and metal panels.
"Amelia! Run!" Dominic roared, grabbing Elias by the throat and driving him against the concrete wall.
Elias sneered, drawing a tactical combat knife from his belt and slashing wild driving the blade deep into Dominic’s side.
Dominic grunted in pain, but he didn't let go. He clamped his heavy hand over Elias's knife wrist, driving his knee sharply into Elias's abdomen.
I stood up, every muscle in my body screaming in agony. I raised my pistol, aiming at Elias's head, but the two men were locked in a frantic, brutal struggle—if I fired, I risked hitting Dominic.
"Go to Caleb!" Dominic barked, his face pale, blood soaking through the side of his shirt where the knife had bitten deep. "I'll handle him! Get out of here!"
Elias twisted his blade, a wicked smile on his lips. "She won't leave you, Mercer. She’s soft. Just like our father."
With a sudden burst of desperation, I didn't shoot Elias. Instead, I aimed my gun at the primary overhead gas line hanging directly above their heads—the main line powering the vault's emergency generators.
"Elias!" I screamed.
My brother looked up just as I pulled the trigger.
BANG.
The bullet tore through the high-pressure gas pipe. A deafening roar of escaping methane exploded into the room, instantly blinding both men in a cloud of freezing, pressurized fog.
Dominic used the distraction to throw Elias violently to the ground. He turned, grabbed my uninjured wrist with a grip like iron, and dragged me into the dark opening of the elevator shaft.
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"Jump!" Dominic yelled over the roar of the gas.
We threw ourselves into the darkness of the shaft, falling into the cold, ancient depths of St. Jude's drainage network just as a massive explosion consumed the vault behind us.
