Chapter 14
The Vance family estate in Barrington Hills, Illinois, was a sprawling fifty-acre compound surrounded by ten-foot stone walls and security cameras.
Snow fell heavily over the manicured lawns as eight heavily armed mercenaries in white snow camouflage patrolled the perimeter.
Inside the grand mahogany library, old Marcus Vance sat behind a massive desk, pouring himself a glass of straight bourbon.
His hands shook uncontrollably as he listened to the television news reporting the collapse of his financial empire.
Sitting across from him was Viktor Reznov, a ruthless former Spetsnaz contractor who now commanded the private security force.
"My son is dead, my reputation is ruined, and federal marshals are frozen at my gates!" Marcus raged, slamming his glass down.
"I paid you five million dollars, Reznov! I want Ethan Cross's head on this desk before sunrise!"
Reznov took a slow drag from a cigarette, his cold blue eyes staring at the security monitors on the wall.
"Mr. Vance, your opponent is not a simple civilian husband," Reznov said calmly in a thick accent.
"I reviewed his military file through my contacts in Europe. His name is Ethan Cross, former Captain in Task Force Black."
"He has single-handedly eliminated three full insurgent cells in Syria without taking a single bullet."
Marcus scoffed arrogantly. "I don't care if he is the Grim Reaper himself! He is one man!"
Suddenly, all the lights across the fifty-acre estate went completely dark.
The high-voltage security perimeter fence sparkled with short-circuit sparks before cutting out completely.
The emergency generators kicked in three seconds later, casting an eerie red glow through the windows.
Over the tactical comms, a mercenary's voice crackled through static: "Alpha team, we have a breach at the south gate—"
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The comms abruptly cut off into static, followed by the distant sound of two suppressed rifle shots.
"He's here," Reznov said softly, standing up and pulling his combat rifle from the desk.
