Chapter 4 - The Second Blackout
A sudden, deafening crack of thunder shook the entire west wing of the estate, followed instantly by the total failure of the electrical grid. The soft hum of the backup generators sputtered once, groaned under a massive power surge, and died completely.
Emergency red beacon lights flickered to life in the long corridor, casting long, bloody shadows across the oil paintings. Arthur instinctively reached into his holster, drawing his custom semi-automatic pistol with practiced precision.
“They cut the main line at the transformer station,” Clara whispered, pulling a tactical combat knife from beneath her ankle strap. “Dominic Cross isn't trying to hide anymore; he’s here to eliminate the evidence and the boy.”
A muffled gunshot echoed from the eastern gallery, followed by the heavy thud of a private security guard collapsing to the floor. Arthur motioned Clara to stay behind him as they navigated the dark, labyrinthine corridor toward Leo’s medical room.
Before they could reach the double oak doors, a tall silhouette stepped out from the intersecting hallway. The man wore a heavy black leather jacket, his face illuminated briefly by a flash of lightning outside the arched window.
On his right wrist, resting against the grip of a silenced pistol, was the unmistakable black-and-silver ink of a striking scorpion.
“You always were slow on the uptake, Arthur,” Dominic Cross spoke with a raspy, taunting chuckle that sent chills down Arthur’s spine. “Nora figured out the offshore accounts in three weeks, but it took you two whole years and a pushed kid to smell the smoke.”
Arthur raised his weapon instantly, aiming directly between the intruder’s eyes. “Where is Evelyn?”
“She’s packing the bearer bonds in the vault downstairs, getting ready for our flight to Grand Cayman,” Dominic sneered, taking a slow step forward. “Drop the gun, Arthur, or the incendiary charges wired to your son’s oxygen tank will vaporize that bedroom in three seconds.”
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Clara didn’t wait for Arthur’s command. She hurled her tactical knife with deadly, pinpoint accuracy through the dim red haze.
The blade buried itself deep into Dominic’s right shoulder, causing his silenced weapon to discharge harmlessly into the ceiling plaster. Dominic roared in agony, stumbling backward into the stairwell as Arthur charged forward with murderous intent.
