Chapter 106 - A City Under Siege
Before Emma could read another word, the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the penthouse shuddered violently.
A low, resonant hum reverberated through the steel bones of the tower, followed immediately by the sudden, chilling death of every electrical light in the room. The city outside went completely black. From the Loop to the shores of Lake Michigan, every streetlamp, skyscraper, traffic signal, and digital display died in a fraction of a second.
A citywide blackout.
"EMP?" Emma gasped, standing up instantly, her instincts honed by weeks of survival.
"No," Vincent said, rising smoothly to his feet and reaching beneath his desk to pull out an automatic pistol. "A targeted grid sabotage. The city’s power plants haven't failed—someone just severed the master node."
The door to the office burst open. Marcus stood there in full tactical gear, a heavy assault rifle clutched across his chest, his night-vision goggles pushed up onto his brow.
"Sir! We have multiple bogeys descending onto the rooftop helipad and scaling the external elevator shafts! They aren't Vance’s mercenaries—Vance is locked in a federal holding cell at the Metropolitan Correctional Center."
"Then who is hitting us?" Vincent demanded, racking the slide of his weapon with practiced efficiency.
"Private military operators," Marcus replied grimly. "Unmarked gear. Advanced stealth tech. And sir... they just blew through our outer security ring on the 80th floor without firing a single conventional round. They're using sub-sonic disruptors and nerve agents. They aren't here to negotiate. They're here to clean the slate."
Emma clutched her mother's journal and the encrypted satellite drive to her chest. "They came for this. The moment the Vanguard ledger leaked, whoever was above Vance activated."
"We move to the panic room," Vincent commanded, grabbing Emma by the elbow. "Marcus, detonate the stairwell charges. Nobody comes up those shafts alive."
"Understood!"
The trio moved rapidly down the darkened corridor, lit only by the eerie green chemical glowsticks Marcus threw ahead of them. But as they reached the armored threshold of the central vault, a deafening blast shattered the skylight above the penthouse atrium.
Rappelling lines snapped tight. Three figures dressed in liquid-black combat armor dropped down silently onto the polished marble, their faceplates completely covered by obsidian visors pulsing with faint amber readouts.
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The center operative raised a weapon unlike anything Vincent had ever seen—a compact magnetic railgun that fired with a deafening crack of thunder.
The round struck the reinforced steel vault door right next to Vincent’s head, punching through six inches of hardened tungsten as if it were cardboard, spraying molten shrapnel across the hallway.
