Chapter 14 - Blackout at the Estate
The silence that followed the blackout was immediate and absolute. The humming refrigerators, the distant drone of the HVAC system, the soft ticking of the grandfather clock—all dead. The only sound left was the rapid patter of autumn rain beginning to lash against the towering library windows.
Ethan’s military training took over instantly. He reached into his jacket, pulling a concealed Glock 19 from its holster and racking the slide with a clean, metallic snap.
"Backup generators should have kicked in within three seconds," Daniel whispered, drawing his own weapon, his silhouette barely visible in the lightning flash that tore across the sky.
"The main breakers were cut manually from the outside perimeter," Ethan said, his voice flat, razor-sharp. "The security grid is compromised. Lily. We have to get to Lily."
Ethan bolted out of the library, taking the grand staircase three steps at a time. The darkness inside the cavernous mansion felt thick, almost alive, evoking the nightmare of that gala night when Lily had been locked away in the servant corridors. Every shadow seemed to stretch and contort.
"Maria!" Ethan called out, keeping his voice low but urgent as he reached the second-floor landing. "Marcus!"
No answer.
Thunder shook the heavy stone walls of the mansion, rattling the antique frames. Lightning illuminated the hallway in a strobing, eerie white glare. That was when Ethan saw the figure standing at the end of the long corridor, right outside Lily’s bedroom door.
It wasn't Eleanor. It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in dark tactical gear, carrying a silenced carbine. On the floor beside him lay Marcus, unconscious and bleeding from a head wound.
"Back off," the intruder commanded in a low, gravelly rasp, raising his weapon directly toward Ethan’s chest. "Make one sound, and the girl dies behind this door."
Ethan didn't hesitate. He dropped his shoulder, firing two suppressed shots through the hallway runner rugs, sending ricochets sparking against the stone baseboards to disrupt the man's footing. The intruder cursed, spraying a burst of suppressed rounds that tore through the priceless oil paintings on the wall, showering the hallway in shredded canvas and plaster dust.
Daniel emerged from the stairwell, firing three rapid shots from a low angle. One caught the intruder in the shoulder; the other slammed into his thigh. The man collapsed with a grunt, his carbine clattering across the oak floorboards.
Ethan crossed the distance in a heartbeat, pinning the man’s throat beneath his combat boot, the barrel of his Glock pressed hard against the man's temple.
"Who sent you?" Ethan snarled, his eyes burning with a terrifying, feral rage. "Speak, or you don't leave this hallway alive."
The man spat blood onto the floor, a sick, crooked grin spreading across his bruised lips. "She said... you'd fight. But you're looking in the wrong room, Vance."
Ethan’s heart stopped. He kicked open the door to Lily’s bedroom.
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The room was completely empty. The window was wide open, the rain-soaked lace curtains whipping violently in the cold wind. And on Lily’s pristine white bed lay a small, brass bell—the identical mate to the bell that hung in the garden.
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