The world erupted into chaos.
A blinding flash lit up the night, followed by an earth-shattering BOOM that shook the limousine to its core.
The explosion painted the night in fiery hues, turning the elegant trees into grotesque silhouettes against the inferno.
Brandon's heart leapt into his throat as the shockwave slammed into the limo, rattling the windows and shaking the vehicle to its core.
Instinct took over. Brandon lunged across the leather seats, throwing his body over Elise and Bailey, shielding them as best he could.
"Get down!" he yelled, his voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears.
The limo swerved violently, tires screeching against the pavement. Through the rear window, Brandon caught a glimpse of the inferno that had engulfed the sleek Rezvani following behind them, now reduced to a twisted, burning wreckage.
His stomach churned as he realized what had happened to Max and his security team.
Gordon's voice cut through the mayhem, steady but urgent.
"Hold on, Young Master!"
The limo accelerated sharply, the engine roaring as Gordon deftly navigated the winding road. The once tranquil route, flanked by ancient oaks and marble statues, was now a gauntlet of death.
Bullets pinged off the armored exterior, the sound of gunfire mixing with the screech of tires.
Another explosion ripped through the night, this time closer.
Brandon risked a glance back just in time to see a statue catapult into the air, engulfed in flames, its fiery debris raining down on the once-pristine street.
His mind raced, trying to process the sudden violence.
"Gordon!" Brandon shouted.
"What's happening?"
"Assassination attempt, Young Master," Gordon replied, his voice unnaturally calm as he yanked the wheel, executing a sharp turn onto a narrow, tree-shrouded lane.
"Multiple hostiles. RPGs confirmed. Small arms fire. Possible—"
BANG!
His words were cut off as something slammed into the side of the limo. The vehicle tilted precariously, threatening to roll.
Gordon wrestled with the wheel, muscles straining as he fought to keep them upright, the screech of tires mingling with the barrage of gunfire echoing through the hollow streets.
Brandon tightened his grip on Elise and Bailey, bracing for impact.
The night air filled with sharp cracks as high-caliber rounds slammed into the limo's exterior, each impact sending bone-rattling vibrations through the armored shell, flattening against the reinforced metal with dull thuds.
Gordon's voice cut through the barrage, steady and authoritative as he barked orders into his earpiece.
"Code Red at Sector 7! Blackstone heir under attack. All units converge on our location. Secure the villa perimeter!"
His calmness in the face of chaos seemed almost surreal, a stark contrast to the bedlam around them.
Brandon's heart pounded as he huddled over Elise and Bailey, their forms clutched tightly to his chest.
But then, through the haze of panic, he noticed something strange—Elise and Bailey were far calmer than they should've been.
Their eyes, though wide, held a focus that was unsettling amidst the turmoil. It was as if they had prepared for this moment, their fear suppressed beneath layers of something else, something colder.
Another volley of sniper fire peppered the vehicle. The bulletproof glass held firm, spiderwebbing but not shattering.
Brandon allowed himself a moment of relief.
That relief was short-lived.
A deafening crack split the air as a round finally punched through the rear window. The safety glass exploded inward, showering the interior with tiny crystalline shards.
Brandon felt the sting as fragments peppered his back and arms.
He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out. Warm trickles of blood seeped through his blazer.
"Stay down!"
Brandon ordered, his voice hoarse with urgency as he pressed Elise and Bailey even lower into the seats, his body a shield against the incoming barrage.
As the chaos continued to unfold around them, Brandon felt a shift in the atmosphere inside the limo.
Elise and Bailey's demeanor changed, their earlier calm morphing into something more purposeful and determined.
Elise's voice cut through the cacophony of gunfire and screeching tires, her tone sharp and authoritative.
"Bailey, where are the firearms?"
Brandon's eyes widened in surprise, but before he could process the implications of her question, Bailey was already in motion.
With practiced ease, Bailey reached for the side of the door, her fingers finding a hidden button.
*Click!*
A soft click echoed through the cabin, barely audible over the din outside.
In one fluid motion, she yanked away the floor mat, revealing a sleek panel that slid open with a pneumatic hiss.
*Hissss!*
Brandon watched in stunned silence as a hidden compartment emerged from the limo's floor, housing a small arsenal of sub-machine guns and pistols.
Bailey's hands moved with swift precision, grabbing a compact sub-machine gun and checking its magazine with practiced efficiency.
Brandon watched in disbelief as Elise reached into the compartment, her movements fluid and practiced.
She pulled out a compact high-caliber rifle, her fingers dancing over its sleek surface with familiarity. With military precision, she attached a scope, her eyes focused and intent.
The sound of metal sliding against metal filled the air as Elise screwed in a long barrel, transforming the compact weapon into a formidable sniper rifle.
The ease with which she handled the firearm was both impressive and unsettling.
As Brandon observed Elise's actions, a sharp pain lanced through his head. Suddenly, vivid images flashed before his eyes - memories he didn't know he had.
He saw himself as a child, no more than eight years old, standing in a dark damp cave, dimly lit with remnants of moonlight.
The weight of a pistol felt heavy in his small hands.
The smell of gun oil and cordite filled his nostrils.
Cold steel, what felt like a barrel of a gun push against the back of his head, as Brandon's small hands struggled with the weight of a pistol.
"Sight is a privilege! The most deceptive of all senses, now shoot! Your life depends on it! "
Another flash - now he was older, maybe twelve, field-stripping an assault rifle blindfolded, his fingers moving with the same practiced precision he'd just witnessed in Elise and Bailey.
The memories faded as quickly as they'd come, leaving Brandon with a dull ache behind his eyes and a growing sense of unease.
He fought back the discomfort, his mind racing to process what he'd just seen - both in his flashbacks and in the present moment.
Elise's voice cut through his confusion.
"Brandon, take this," she said, pressing a compact sub-machine gun into his hands.
As his fingers closed around the weapon, muscle memory took over.
He checked the safety, magazine, and chamber with practiced ease, movements he didn't even realize he possessed.
'What the hell?' Brandon thought, his mind reeling.
'How do I know how to do this?'
He watched as Bailey and Elise armed themselves, their actions smooth and confident.
It struck him then, the stark reality of their upbringing.
'Is this what it means to be part of the elite?' he mused, a mix of awe and horror washing over him.
'Trained to be soldiers before they could be kids to survive their privilege… '
Another wave of pain surged through Brandon's head, threatening to overwhelm him.
He gritted his teeth, forcing the discomfort aside.
There was no time for weakness now.