The morning was unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
Clair walked the hallways with her usual coffee mug, but even the air felt heavy, like it was holding its breath. The guards outside her room weren't at their usual posts.
She didn't like it.
Not one bit.
Marco was on the roof checking security.
Austin was in a meeting on the lower floor.
And Clair—Clair was starting to sense the storm before it broke.
She stopped at the edge of the staircase, mug halfway to her lips.
That's when she heard it.
Boom.
A sharp explosion shattered the silence, followed by shouts and the screeching of metal against metal.
Clair dropped the mug. It shattered across the floor.
Seconds later, gunfire erupted downstairs.
They were under attack.
Clair ran back into her room and yanked open the drawer where Marco had stashed a Glock just for her.
Her hands didn't shake this time.
Not anymore.
Outside her door, a scream echoed—then silence.
She pressed herself to the wall, gun raised.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Rushed.
She spun just as a masked man kicked open the door.
She didn't hesitate.
Pop. Pop.
Two shots to the chest. He fell.
She rushed out into the hallway, barefoot, heart pounding in her ears.
The mansion was chaos.
Smoke rolled down the stairwell. Lights flickered.
She could hear more shots in the distance—closer now.
"Marco!" she screamed. "Austin!"
Nothing.
Then a voice crackled through a nearby radio:
"Target confirmed. Bring the girl alive. Kill anyone else."
Her stomach twisted.
They weren't just attacking.
They were hunting her.
Downstairs, Austin slammed an enemy against the wall and jammed a knife into his ribs.
He was bleeding from a graze to his side, fury written across every line of his body.
"Where the hell is she?" he barked into his earpiece.
No answer.
Marco's voice cut through static. "Clair's still in the east wing. They're trying to box her in."
Austin's jaw clenched. "Not on my watch."
He grabbed a rifle and pushed through the smoke.
Clair made it to the east corridor, ducking behind a marble column as bullets tore through the wall.
She counted six of them.
Too many to take alone.
She could wait for backup.
Or she could be the storm Austin said she was.
She remembered his words: You're not glass. You're a storm.
So she moved.
Fast.
Sliding across the floor, she fired twice, one man dropped.
Another turned, but she ducked into a side room, heart hammering.
She waited. Listened.
Footsteps.
She aimed through the broken glass panel on the door.
As the second man appeared, she fired again.
Headshot.
He dropped.
Then, silence.
Only three left.
She stepped into the hall again.
And saw a shadow move, too close.
Before she could react, an arm wrapped around her neck, gun pressed to her temple.
"I've got her!" the man roared.
Clair struggled, kicking, elbowing, until a gunshot rang out and the grip on her loosened.
Austin stood behind the man, breathing hard, rifle still smoking.
"You alright?" he asked.
Clair's chest heaved. "That's twice now."
He smirked. "Who's counting?"
The firefight wasn't over.
Marco stormed in from the north hall. "They breached the control room!"
"Fall back to the vault!" Austin ordered, grabbing Clair's hand.
They raced through a back tunnel, lit with red emergency lights.
Explosions rocked the building above them.
In the vault, a handful of guards gathered, some wounded, some reloading.
Clair pressed her back to the steel wall, catching her breath.
Austin's shirt was soaked in blood.
"You're hit," she said.
"I've had worse."
She tore fabric from her sleeve and pressed it against his side.
"Stop trying to look invincible. You're human."
He chuckled. "That's your fault."
Marco broke the moment. "We have a problem."
"What now?" Austin asked.
"They weren't here just for Clair. One of them had a tracker."
Austin's eyes narrowed. "Who sent them?"
Marco hesitated. "It was someone from New York. Name we haven't heard in years."
"Who?" Austin demanded.
Marco looked him dead in the eye. "Your brother."
Clair's head snapped up. "You have a brother?"
Austin's face went blank.
"I did."
Fifteen years ago, Austin's younger brother, Elias Black, was presumed dead after a betrayal inside the family empire. Rumors said he ran off with millions, others claimed Austin ordered him killed.
Neither version was true.
Elias had survived.
And now, he was back.
The attack ended just after midnight.
Nine dead.
Six wounded.
The mansion was partially destroyed.
But Clair was alive.
And Austin, though bloody, exhausted, and haunted, was still breathing.
They stood in the center of the wreckage.
Clair looked up at him. "Your brother wants me dead?"
"No," Austin said quietly. "He wants to break me."
She touched his hand. "Then let's make sure he never gets the chance."