Chapter 63 - The Shattered Parapet
A violent shudder shook the foundations of the estate as an explosive breach charge detonated against the eastern portico. The roar of the explosion reverberated through the steel shutters, sending plumes of plaster dust cascading from the ornate crown molding.
"They're using thermite charges on the lower foundation!" I shouted over the blare of the manor's internal proximity alarms. The monitors displayed red perimeter blips rapidly converging on the rear terrace. "Miller’s tactical convoy is three minutes out, but their forward team has breached the service corridors below!"
Lord William’s smile returned, cruel and predatory. "Three minutes is an eternity under fire, Sarah. My boys served in the Royal Marine Commandos before entering private security. They don't fight for money; they fight under blood contracts. They will tear this house down brick by brick to secure that drive."
"Then we take the fight below," David said coldly. He reached into the concealed gun safe behind Arthur’s portrait, pulling out a tactical shotgun and two spare magazines, tossing one to me. "Sarah, can you maintain the data broadcast from a mobile uplink?"
"I’ve already tethered the server's mirror drive to Arthur's private dispatch satellite," I said, locking the magazine into my receiver. "The transmission will complete even if this terminal is incinerated."
Suddenly, the floor beneath us rattled as the first wave of mercenaries reached the upper mezzanine. Submachine gun fire chewed through the antique mahogany doors leading to the study. Splinters of wood and ricochets danced across the armored blast shields.
David grabbed Lord William by his tailored lapels, yanking the older man forward into the crossfire zone with ruthless efficiency. "You wanted your heir, William? Then watch how a Vance commands a battlefield."
David kicked open the heavy oak access door leading to the hidden servant staircase—the subterranean route connecting the main house to the Cumberland freight tunnels. He shoved Lord William down the concrete steps ahead of us just as a fragmentation grenade blew the study’s primary double doors off their hinges.
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We plunged into the shadowed depths of the estate’s hidden labyrinth, the roar of pursuing gunfire echoing down the spiral stairs behind us. The battle for Belle Meade was no longer a corporate dispute; it was a full-scale war for survival.
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