A maid delivered a razor-sharp kick to break the bride's syringe, completely unaware that the billionaire's silent 7-year-old niece was watching from the stairs.

Claire stepped out into the open gallery just as the first armed mercenary reached the landing.

The intruder wore sterile black combat gear, night-vision goggles, and carried a suppressed submachine gun. The moment his weapon swept upward, Claire fired twice.

*Pfft! Pfft!*

The suppressed rounds struck the operator center-mass. The impact knocked him backward, his body tumbling down the flight of stairs with a dull, crashing racket.

"Contact! Landing!" a harsh voice shouted from below.

Automatic gunfire instantly tore through the upper hallway. Plaster exploded from the walls, shredding family portraits and showering the carpet with chalky dust.

Claire didn't flinch. She dropped to one knee, leaning around the marble balustrade, and fired three controlled double-taps into the muzzle flashes below. Two more screams echoed from the darkness, followed by the clatter of dropped weapons.

"Go! Now!" Claire shouted over her shoulder.

Ethan bolted down the east wing corridor, shielding Mia’s body with his own as stray rounds chipped the mahogany paneling above their heads. Mia buried her face into his neck, whimpering, but she didn't scream. Her uncle's steady heartbeat gave her an anchor in the storm of chaos.

Claire laid down a suppressing burst, expending her first magazine, ejecting it with a flick of her index finger, and slamming a fresh eighteen-round mag home before the empty casing even hit the floor.

She turned and sprinted after Ethan, closing the distance effortlessly.

They reached the heavy iron door of the third-floor conservatory just as another volley of fire chewed through the doorway behind them. Ethan slammed his shoulder against the emergency bar, throwing the door open.

The conservatory was a massive glass-domed solarium filled with exotic palms, hanging ferns, and marble statues. Rain hammered deafeningly against the glass ceiling overhead, drowning out the sounds of pursuit.

Claire slammed the heavy iron door shut, throwing the double manual deadbolts.

"That will hold them for sixty seconds," Claire breathed, checking her ammunition count. "The fire escape is behind the ficus trees on the north terrace."

Ethan led the way through the winding stone pathways of the indoor greenhouse. The cool, damp air smelled of wet soil and orchids.

"They were waiting for us," Ethan said, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "How did they know the layout of the private wing so well?"

"Julian Croft had full access to the estate's architectural blueprints when the security grid was installed three years ago," Claire said, scanning the dark perimeter through the foliage. "He didn't just hire hitmen; he gave them the tactical map."

Suddenly, the glass dome above them exploded inward.

*Crash!*

A rain of deadly glass shards cascaded down into the conservatory as two black-clad figures rappelled through the shattered ceiling on tactical ropes. One landed directly on a stone planter ten feet away, leveling a shotgun straight at Ethan and Mia.

Ethan’s world slowed to a crawl. He turned his back, hunching his body over Mia, preparing to take the fatal blast.

*Bang! Bang!*

Two gunshots rang out from Claire’s weapon. The mercenary on the planter fell backward into the shattered glass, his shotgun discharging harmlessly into the ceiling.

The second operator hit the ground rolling. Before Claire could reacquire the target, the man lunged forward, his combat knife flashing in the shadows. He swept Claire’s gun arm aside with a brutal forearm block, sending her Glock skittering across the wet stone floor.

The mercenary drove a vicious knee toward Claire’s ribs.

Claire pivoted, absorbing the blow along her hip, and countered with an elbow strike that shattered the man’s tactical goggles. He roared in pain, swinging the combat knife in a lethal horizontal slash toward her throat.

Claire ducked beneath the blade. In one fluid, seamless movement, she grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm into an agonizing kimura lock, and drove her heel into the back of his knee. The mercenary collapsed to his knees with a loud snap of tearing ligaments. Claire wrenched the knife from his fingers, spun behind him, and drove the butt of the heavy blade hard into his temple.

The man slumped unconscious onto the wet foliage.

Claire scooped her Glock off the floor, her chest heaving slightly, her auburn hair damp with rain pouring through the shattered dome. She looked over at Ethan.

Ethan was staring at her, awe and fierce admiration burning in his dark eyes. "Remind me never to get on your bad side, Reyes."

"Noted," Claire said with a breathless, razor-thin smile. "Now let's get Mia out of here before the remaining squad breaches that door."

Claire kicked open the exterior terrace door.

Cold, freezing rain lashed against their faces as they stepped onto the wrought-iron fire escape overlooking the dark, pine-covered cliffs. Down below, parked on the private access road half a mile away, the headlights of an unmarked black SUV suddenly flared to life.

Ethan narrowed his eyes through the rain. "Is that... our extraction?"

"No," Claire said, pulling a tactical monocular from her belt and zooming in on the vehicle's license plate. "That's Julian Croft's personal transport. He came to watch the execution himself."

Claire pocketed the monocular and looked at Ethan, her green eyes blazing with cold, dangerous determination.