The Heiress in Shadows

“Move!” Enzo roared, grabbing Harper by the forearm.

He didn’t wait for her to stand; he hoisted her to her feet and shoved her toward the hidden service staircase behind the master wardrobe.

“What about the drive?” Harper yelled over the wailing siren.

“Matteo has it in the panic room!”

A massive explosion ripped through the western wing of the mansion. The entire floor buckled beneath them, knocking Enzo into the oak doorframe and sending Harper sprawling across the hardwood. Plaster dust and black smoke billowed into the bedroom as the sound of shattering concrete echoed through the ventilation shafts.

Preston wasn’t trying to steal the drive back. He was trying to bury everyone who knew about it under fifty tons of rubble.

Enzo pulled Harper up, wrapping an arm securely around her waist. “Hold on to me.”

They plunged down the narrow service stairs, the heat from the growing fire below already warming the concrete walls. Secondary explosions sounded from the garage—Preston’s hitters were using military-grade C4 to collapse the support pillars.

They burst out into the underground tunnel that connected the main house to the private boathouse on the lake. Matteo was already there, holding a tactical duffel bag in one hand and an assault rifle in the other, blood dripping down the side of his face.

“They used RPGs on the main gates, boss,” Matteo coughed through the thick smoke. “Local police are twenty minutes out, but we all know who signs the chief’s paycheck—Preston’s people will intercept the call.”

“The boat,” Enzo ordered. “Get the engines running.”

The boathouse opened onto the freezing, pitch-black water of Lake Michigan. The wind was howling, whipping sleet across the metal dock. Matteo jumped into the twin-engine armored launch, hitting the ignition. The powerful engines roared to life, churning the black water into white foam.

Enzo helped Harper into the passenger seat, throwing a heavy waterproof coat over her shoulders. He turned to help Matteo cast off the lines when a laser sight painted a bright red dot directly on Harper’s chest.

“Down!” Enzo lunged across the console, tackling Harper into the footwell.

A high-caliber sniper round punched through the reinforced windshield, showering them with tempered glass shards. On the ridge above the boathouse stood three figures in tactical gear, silhouettes against the orange glow of the burning mansion.

Preston Whitcomb’s voice boomed over a megaphone from the ridge above: “Leave the girl, Enzo! She’s damaged goods anyway! Hand over the drive, and I’ll let you drown in the lake with your brother!”