Chapter 17 - HOLDING THE EAST WING
Heavy, synchronized footsteps echoed down the marble hallway outside the East Wing guest suite.
Professional mercenaries wearing night-vision goggles and tactical gear moved with terrifying, calculated precision.
Marcus wheeled himself behind a reinforced mahogany pillar, aiming his custom pistol directly at the double doors.
"They're coming for both of us, Clara. Stay behind me," Marcus ordered in a low, dangerous whisper.
"Mr. Vance, I survived three years in the slums dodging corporate hitmen; I don't need hiding," Clara retorted coolly.
The heavy oak doors exploded inward in a shower of splinters as a breaching charge detonated with a deafening roar.
Two tactical mercenaries surged through the smoke, raising their submachine guns to sweep the room.
Marcus fired twice with absolute, ruthless accuracy, dropping the lead mercenary before he could even squeeze his trigger.
The second mercenary swung his barrel toward Marcus, but a heavy silver medical tray flew across the room, striking his visor.
Clara followed up with a vicious sweep kick that dropped the second operative hard onto the Persian rug.
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"Not bad for an apothecary chemist," Marcus muttered with a grim, approving smile.
***
