Chapter 4 - The Showdown in the Foyer
The grand foyer of the Cross estate was a wreck. Shattered crystal from the chandelier carpeted the marble floor, reflecting the red glare of the emergency lights.
Marco Moretti—a heavy-set, arrogant man in a fox-fur coat—stood near the ruined front entrance, flanked by twenty heavily armed enforcers. He held a gold-plated revolver, a smug, victorious sneer carved onto his weathered face.
"Cross!" Marco yelled, his voice echoing off the high arched ceilings. "It's over! Your guards are dead or fled! Give me Kaelen's drive and the girl, and I might let you live out your days in a prison cell!"
From the top of the grand marble staircase, a shadow stepped out of the smoke.
Holden Cross walked down the steps slowly, calmly, as if descending to greet guests at a dinner party. Behind him walked Vance and four surviving guards.
And at Holden’s right side walked Phantom.
The Cane Corso moved with a slow, predatory stride, his amber eyes fixed entirely on Marco Moretti. The wound on his shoulder was bandaged, but his presence was more terrifying than ever.
In the shadows of the upper balcony, guarded by Vance’s top marksman, Aria watched silently.
Marco’s sneer faltered slightly as he saw the giant black dog. "Shoot that damned beast first," Marco ordered his men in a low voice.
"Try it, Marco," Holden’s voice cut through the hall like a razor. "Before your men can pull their triggers, every federal agent in the state will be raiding your safehouses. I just broadcast Kaelen's drive. Your empire is gone. You're broke, Marco. As of thirty seconds ago."
Marco’s face turned white. He reached for his encrypted phone, checking the screen. A flood of emergency notifications swept across his display—frozen accounts, seized assets, warrants issuing across three jurisdictions.
"You... you bastard!" Marco roared, raising his gold revolver directly at Holden's chest. "I'll kill you myself!"
"Phantom," Holden whispered. "Eliminate."
Phantom didn't rush in a straight line. He leaped over the marble balustrade, dropping fifteen feet to the lower floor with incredible agility, landing right in the middle of Marco's front line.
Panic erupted among the mercenaries. Guns fired wildly into the marble floor as Phantom tore through the ranks like a hurricane. He tackled two gunners instantly, his sheer mass throwing them into the marble pillars.
Holden and his men opened fire from the stairs, taking down the distracted mercenaries with surgical precision.
Marco tried to flee toward the open front door, his gold revolver raised to fire back over his shoulder. But as he reached the threshold, a massive black shape blocked his light.
Phantom stood at the doorway. His teeth were bared, a guttural, demonic growl rising from his chest.
Marco panicked and pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed Phantom’s ribcage, but the beast didn't even flinch. Phantom launched himself forward, his jaws locking onto Marco's arm, slamming the heavy crime lord onto his back in the freezing snow outside the entrance.
The gold revolver flew into the snowbank.
Holden walked out of the ruined doorway, stepping up to the kneeling, terrified Marco Moretti, who was pinned under Phantom’s massive paws.
"Please... Holden... mercy!" Marco wept, staring into the jaws of the killer dog inches from his throat. "We were business partners! We were friends!"
"You killed my brother," Holden said softly, his voice devoid of any emotion. "And you hunted his daughter."
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Holden looked down at Phantom. "He's yours, boy."
Phantom let out a deafening roar that shook the night air.
