THIRTY FOUR

The penthouse had always been a peaceful place, but today it felt like a battleground.

Inside the penthouse, chaos resigned as the sound of gunfire intensified, echoing through the lavish corridors. Olivia’s heart pounded in her chest as She and Monica hurried through the corridors, Vincent led them swiftly inside a concealed corridor , the corridor ended at a seemingly innocuous bookshelf.

Vincent pressed a concealed button, and the shelf swung open silently, revealing a hidden entrance, “Inside now,” he directed, ushering them into the narrow passage that led to a safe room.

Olivia glanced at Monica, whose face was a mask of worry and frustration. Monica's usual poise was shaken, “Olivia,” she whispered, as they moved, “I hope we don't die today.”

Olivia's heart clenched at the raw honesty of Monica's words. She understands the gravity of their situation. “We won't, Monica ,” She said, her voice thick with remorse, “But I believe Lucas is handling the situation.”

Monica glanced at Olivia with a raised brow without saying a word.

“Stay here,” Vincent said, more like an order, “Massimo’s men are making a concentrated effort to breach the penthouse.” Vincent added, glancing at both of them.

“What happens if they breach the penthouse?” Monica asked, holding Vincent on his arms, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vincent gaze turned to Monica's hands on his arms, for some reasons, her touch sent shivers down his spine, he couldn't explain, he turned his gaze back to her face, “We have contingency,” he replied evenly as he stepped out of the safe room in a rush.

Monica and Olivia watched Vincent leave the safe room, shutting the heavy door behind them.

The room was stark but functional: steel walls lined with shelves stocked with water, non - perishable foods, medical supplies, and communication equipment. A small console displayed life security feeds from the penthouse, giving them a grim window into the battle outside

Olivia's heart ached with each burst of gunfire. Monica paced restlessly, her frustration and fear evident in every movement.

The sounds of gunfire and shouted orders filtered through the walls, a distant yet constant reminder of the danger outside.

Monica glanced at Olivia, her reflecting a mix of fear and resignation, “Liv,” She began quietly, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion, “I never imagined in my whole life, I'ld be in the middle of all these.” She said, throwing her hands dramatically in the air.

Olivia met her friend’s gaze , her own guilt and worry reflected in her eyes, “I'm sorry Mon,” she said softly, her voice heavy with remorse. “I never wanted you to be involved in any of this.”

Monica shook her head, a sad smile touching her lips, “You’re my best friend,” she said, “I guess this is what it means to stand by you, no matter what.”

Outside the mansion,chaos reigned as Massimo's men pressed forward with relentless determination, they launched a coordinated assault , their tactics ruthless and their aim unwavering, they advanced with deadly intent.

Amidst the chaos, Vincent’s voice cut through the din gunfire and shouts, commanding his team with urgent precision.

“Fall back to position, bravo cover on the left flank!” Vincent’s voice rang out, clear and authoritative, amidst the crackling gunfire and distants explosions.

His eyes scanned the courtyard calculating the attackers movement, and it hesitating his team’s defense with practiced skill.

“I need suppressing fire! now!” Vince shouted over the roar of battle, his gaze intense as he directed his men to hold their ground. The courtyard was a battkeground, every each contested with deadly intent.

His team responded with disciplined efficiency , the staccato of their gunfire punctuating Vincent's rapid-fire commands. They moved with a sunchronicity born of countless drills and shared danger, their unity forged in the crucible of combat.

But amidst the orchestrated chaos, fate struck without warning. A stray bullet found it's mark, tearing through Vincent's shoulder with brutal force. “Damn it,” Vincent cursed, through clenched teeth, pressing a hand against his bleeding shoulder.

He staggered backward, his face contorted in pain as he struggled to stay on his feet. Blood seeped through his clenched fingers, staining his shirt.

Inside the penthouse, Olivia and Monica watched the drama unfold on the monitors. Monica’s eyes widened in horror as she saw Vincent go down, “Oh my god,” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, “Vincent!”

Olivia's heart sank, her voice tinged with worry, as she watched the scene play out, “He’ll make it through,” she said, her tone determined despite the fear gnawing at her, “Vincent is tough as nails.”

Despite the searing pain radiating from Vincent’s shoulder, Vincent continued to bark out orders to his team. Unknown to them one of Massimo's men had breached the perimeter and maneuvered his way into the penthouse.

Olivia and Monica watched the security feeds, as they saw the man moving swiftly through the penthouse, checking every room and opening each door with cautious determination, Olivia and Monica exchanged worried glances, their hearts pounded with fear for their safety.

They watched as the man drew closer to the disguised bookshelve, his movement deliberate and unsettling.

“He’s getting closer,” Monica whispered m,her voice barely above a terrified whisper.

Olivia scanned the safe room, her mind racing with with possibilities, “ He can't get access in here, just stay quiet.”Sgecsaud urgently, her eyes fixed on the screen monitor .

Outside, the battle reached a critical juncture. Massimo's men , emboldened by their initial advance, pressed forward with renewed aggression. But Lucas’s men refused to yield, their defensive line a bastion against the advancing tide of violence and chaos.

When Massimo's men discovered that, Lucas’s men defense were stronger, they began to retreat. As the echoes of batte subsided, Vincent stepped cautiously into the penthouse, Vincent's eyes scanned the surroundings with wary vigilance.

The intruder startled by Vincent's arrival, froze in his tracks, he stood with tense muscles and eyes wide, caught in the spotlight of Vincent's steady gaze.

Vincent’s voice cut through the silence, firm and commanding despite the pain that throbbed in his wounded arm, “Dro your weapon!” he ordered, his tone brooking no arguments.

The intruder hesitated, his fingers tightening around the pistol clutched in his hands. His eyes flickered with uncertainties , weighing the consequences of defence against Vincent.

“I said drop it,” Vincent repeated, his voice tinged with steel.

Slowly, reluctantly, the intruder lowered his weapon to the ground. His movement were deliberate , a silent acknowledgement of the futility of resistance in the face of Vincent’s unwavering determination.

With caution born of experience , Vincent approached the intruder . He moved with deliberate step , his gaze never leaving the man, he disarmed the intruder swiftly efficiently. Just then other guards came in and took the intruder to the dark room.