Chapter 6 - THE NIGHT THE MANSION BURNEDThe first armored vehicle crashed through the west gate at 4:17 in the morning.
Marin knew the exact time because she was looking at the clock beside June’s bed when the windows shattered.
Cassian threw himself over both sisters as glass sprayed across the room.
“Floor!”
Guards rushed into the medical wing.
Gunfire echoed through the lower halls.
June screamed.
Marin pulled her beneath the steel examination table.
Cassian fired through the broken doorway.
A Bowmont gunman fell.
Marin had seen blood before.
Her grandmother’s kitchen had sometimes become an emergency clinic for people who could not afford hospitals.
But she had never watched a man die six feet away.
The sound he made followed her even after Cassian dragged them into the secure corridor.
“Take June to the shelter,” he ordered.
Marin grabbed his sleeve.
“You’re bleeding.”
A shard of glass had cut his temple.
“It’s nothing.”
“People always say that before collapsing.”
His eyes locked with hers.
“I need to hold the house.”
“And I need to keep you alive.”
For one terrible second, they stood in the noise with neither willing to let go.
Then Marco appeared.
“Boss, they’re inside the kitchen.”
“Move the noncombatants underground.”
“The east stairwell is compromised.”
Cassian looked at Marin.
“Go with Marco.”
“No.”
“Marin.”
She pointed to the blood running down his face.
“Your depth perception will change if that reaches your eye.”
“This is not the time.”
“This is exactly the time.”
She wiped the blood with her sleeve and pressed gauze against the wound.
Cassian stared at her.
Even surrounded by gunfire, something electric passed between them.
Marco cleared his throat.
“I hate to interrupt whatever this is, but people are shooting at us.”
They moved.
The mansion’s emergency shelter lay beneath the wine cellar.
Staff members crowded inside.
June was placed on a cot.
Serafina stood near the reinforced door.
“My father’s men will not stop,” she said.
Cassian checked his weapon.
“They will when they run out.”
“August has nearly two hundred soldiers.”
“I have more.”
“That is not the comforting statement you think it is,” Marin said.
Cassian almost smiled.
Then an explosion shook dust from the ceiling.
The emergency lights flickered.
Marco received a radio report.
“Fire in the north wing.”
Cassian turned toward the stairs.
Marin blocked him.
“You can’t fight a fire and an army.”
“I can try.”
“You’ll die.”
His expression hardened.
“Move.”
“No.”
Every person in the shelter watched them.
Marin did not care.
“This is what they want,” she said. “They want you defending the mansion while Lucien and August meet at the fort.”
Cassian’s gaze sharpened.
“The attack is a distraction.”
“Yes.”
Serafina stepped closer.
“Lucien wants both families weakened. He will let us kill each other and take what remains.”
Cassian looked toward Marco.
“Can we hold the shelter?”
“For hours.”
“Evacuation route?”
“The river tunnel.”
An old maintenance passage ran from the mansion grounds toward a private boathouse.
Cassian made the decision.
“Evacuate everyone.”
Marco frowned.
“You’re abandoning the house?”
“I’m abandoning the trap.”
They moved through the tunnel in groups.
Smoke followed them underground.
By sunrise, flames consumed the north wing of the Marquette mansion.
Marin stood near the water with June wrapped in a blanket.
Cassian watched his childhood home burn.
No emotion showed on his face.
But Marin saw his hands.
One was clenched so tightly blood ran from his palm where his nails had broken the skin.
She walked over and opened his fingers.
“You are doing it again.”
“What?”
“Bleeding quietly because you think no one should notice.”
His gaze moved toward her.
“I noticed you.”
“Someone had to.”
She cleaned his palm.
Around them, guards prepared boats.
Serafina provided the fort’s layout.
Cassian intended to confront Lucien before the meeting ended.
Marin listened to the plan.
Then she realized his name was missing from the extraction route.
“You don’t plan to come back.”
Cassian said nothing.
Marco looked away.
Marin stepped closer.
“You think you have to die to end this.”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“Marin—”
“You believe if Lucien and August die with you, the war ends.”
Cassian’s voice dropped.
“My father will never stop.”
“That does not mean you hand him your body.”
“He built everything around me.”
“He built a weapon.”
Her fingers touched the scar beneath his shirt.
“But you are not obligated to remain one.”
His jaw tightened.
“You should stay with June.”
“I will.”
Relief flickered in his eyes.
“After I go to the fort.”
“No.”
“That was not a request.”
For the first time, Marin smiled with no humor.
“You should know by now that sentence doesn’t work on me.”
June spoke from behind them.
“She’s going.”
Marin turned.
June stood unsteadily beside Serafina.
“You need me.”
“I need you alive,” June said.
“And I need the same from you.”
June looked at Cassian.
“Bring her back.”
Cassian’s face changed.
“I will.”
Marin heard the promise.
So did everyone else.
They boarded the boat at dusk.
Fort Carroll rose from the dark water like a ruined crown.
Cassian wore black.
Marco carried enough weapons to start his own war.
Serafina came because only she knew the inner passages.
Marin carried Evelyn’s notebook, a medical bag, and the bloody needle sealed inside glass.
Cassian noticed.
“Why bring it?”
“Evidence.”
“Against whom?”
“Whoever survives.”
They entered through a flooded tunnel.
Voices echoed beyond the stone passage.
Lucien Marquette stood in the central courtyard beneath military floodlights.
He was older than the photograph.
But unmistakably Cassian’s father.
August Bowmont stood opposite him.
Between them, tied to a chair, was Serafina’s younger brother.
And beside the boy stood Teddy Vance.
Lucien smiled when Cassian emerged.
“My son.”
Cassian raised his gun.
“Father.”
Lucien’s gaze moved to Marin.
“So this is Evelyn’s daughter.”
Marin felt Cassian shift in front of her.
Lucien laughed.
“Still protecting Holloway women.”
He opened his arms.
“You canceled your wedding for a maid.”
“I canceled a funeral.”
Lucien’s smile faded.
“Did you?”
Teddy lifted a syringe.
May you like
The needle hovered over Serafina’s brother’s neck.
“One wrong move,” he said, “and the boy dies before he hits the floor.”
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