Chapter 8 - The shattered glass
The invisible death began to descend from the gilded ceilings. The sweet fragrance of the white roses was instantly overpowered by a sharp, metallic odor that burned the back of the throat. Vincent recognized the chemical signature immediately. It was a rapid-acting neurotoxin, designed to incapacitate and kill within minutes.
He didn't have time to disarm Vanessa. He didn't have time to reason with her. He lunged forward, not toward the socialite, but toward the massive, untouched floor-to-ceiling window dominating the northern wall of the ballroom.
He grabbed a heavy, gold-plated candelabra from a nearby banquet table. With a mighty, guttural roar, utilizing the full, devastating power of his broad-shouldered physique, Vincent hurled the heavy metal object directly at the center of the reinforced glass.
The glass spider-webbed violently but did not break.
The air in the room was growing thick. Vanessa dropped her pistol, clutching her throat as the neurotoxin began to attack her respiratory system. She collapsed onto the ivory marble floor, gasping for air, her icy green eyes wide with the horrifying realization that her masters had intended to kill her all along.
Vincent ignored her. He grabbed a second gold banquet chair, sprinting toward the window. He swung the chair like a massive hammer, striking the exact center of the spider-webbed impact point.
The entire pane of reinforced glass shattered outward in a spectacular, deafening explosion of crystal shards. The pressure differential created a massive, violent vacuum, sucking the toxic air out into the howling night wind.
Vincent dropped the chair, coughing heavily as his lungs burned. He turned and sprinted back down the aisle toward the stage, diving behind the heavy oak podium.
Lily was huddled on the floor, her small hands covering her mouth and nose exactly as he had taught her during a fire safety drill years ago. Her rosy chubby cheeks were pale, but her sapphire-blue eyes were clear and alert.
Vincent scooped her up, burying her face into his broad chest, shielding her from the remaining toxic fumes. He carried her swiftly toward the shattered window, stepping over the gasping, suffocating form of Vanessa, and leapt through the broken frame out onto the dark, manicured lawns of the estate.
They collapsed onto the cool, damp grass, breathing in deep, agonizing lungfuls of clean, fresh air. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing rapidly louder as dozens of police cruisers, SWAT vehicles, and HAZMAT teams breached the main gates of the estate, their red and blue lights painting the night sky in frantic, strobing colors.
Vincent sat up, holding Lily tightly in his lap. He watched as heavily armed tactical teams swarmed the mansion, securing the perimeter and rushing into the ballroom with specialized breathing apparatuses. They dragged Vanessa’s unconscious body out onto the grass, immediately administering counter-agents to stabilize her.
Grandpa, Lily whispered, her tiny hand reaching up to touch his soot-stained cheek. Are the bad men gone?
Vincent looked down at the beautiful, incredibly resilient six-year-old who had saved hundreds of lives with a stolen keycard. He kissed her forehead gently, a profound, overwhelming love warring with the cold reality of the night.
May you like
The men in the house are gone, sweetheart, Vincent replied softly, his sharp blue eyes looking out into the darkness beyond the police lights.
But as he watched the paramedics load Vanessa into an ambulance, a chilling thought settled heavily into his mind. The syndicate hadn't just attacked the wedding to steal the funds; they had attacked the wedding to erase the entire family. The black box he had destroyed in the server room wasn't the only device they possessed.
