Chapter 3 - Blood and Steel
The hallway outside the study became a kill zone.
Holden moved with the lethal elegance that had made him the most feared crime boss on the East Coast. Every shot from his Kimber found its mark, dropping Moretti mercenaries as they tried to push up the grand marble staircase. The mansion's security team fought with desperate fury, backing their boss as muzzle flashes illuminated the smoke-filled corridors.
"Flank them from the west balcony!" a mercenary commander screamed from below.
Two mercenaries kicked open the side door of the study, bypassing Holden's main defense line. They surged into the room with suppressed submachine guns raised, sweeping the area for the child.
"There she is! Grab the kid!" one shouted.
They made a fatal mistake: they ignored the black shadow resting on the leather sofa.
Phantom didn't bark. He exploded off the couch in a blur of black fur and raw power.
The first mercenary barely had time to raise his barrel before Phantom’s 130-pound frame slammed into his chest, throwing him back against the mahogany desk. The sound of ribs snapping echoed through the room as Phantom locked his jaw onto the man's tactical vest, dragging him to the floor with terrifying strength.
The second mercenary swung his weapon toward the dog, but Aria screamed, "NO!"
Phantom spun mid-air, dodging a burst of bullets that chewed into the floorboards, and lunged. His jaws clamped around the mercenary's gun wrist, exerting seven hundred pounds of pressure per square inch. The steel weapon crumpled like a soda can under the force, and the man shrieked in agony as he was slammed into the wall.
Outside the study, Holden heard the commotion. He turned back, firing two shots through the doorway to clear the remaining threshold, and stepped inside.
The two mercenaries were incapacitated, unconscious on the floor. Phantom stood over them, panting heavily, a thin line of red dripping from a shallow graze on his shoulder.
Aria was sitting on the sofa, her arms wrapped around her knees, but she wasn't crying. She was staring at Phantom with deep, unyielding trust.
"Phantom!" Aria called out weakly.
The killer dog immediately turned away from the downed men, trotting back to the couch. He gently placed his broad, blood-dusted head on her lap, letting out a soft whine to reassure her he was okay.
Holden walked over, kneeling beside them. He checked Phantom’s shoulder—it was a flesh wound. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and tied it firmly around the dog’s leg to stop the bleeding.
"He saved me again," Aria whispered.
"He's family," Holden said, looking into the dog’s eyes with a newfound respect. "And in this house, we die for family."
Vance burst into the room, covered in soot, his face grim. "Boss! We've cleared the second floor, but Don Marco Moretti himself just entered the main foyer. He brought thirty heavy gunners. They've sealed the compound exits. We're trapped."
Holden stood up, his hand resting on Phantom's broad head. "We're not trapped, Vance. They just put themselves in a box with us."
Holden picked up the micro-drive from the locket, plugging it into a hardened satellite tablet on his desk. The screen flashed green as the encryption bypassed. Thousands of files expanded across the display—bank accounts, illegal arms shipments, corrupt judges, and the entire infrastructure of the Moretti empire.
"Kaelen didn't just gather evidence," Holden smiled coldly, a dark, vicious expression. "He built a kill-switch for their entire organization."
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Holden tapped three commands, transmitting the drive's contents directly to the Federal Organized Crime Taskforce and broadcasting the financial lockouts to every major global market.
"Now," Holden turned to his men, his Kimber loaded with a fresh magazine. "Let's go say hello to Marco."
