Chapter 7 - The Breach
The peace shattered on a Tuesday in late November.
The winter snow had arrived early, coating the Chestnut Hill estate in a thick, blinding blanket of white. Jackson was away in Atlantic City for a high-level summit, leaving the estate under the command of Dmitri and twelve senior guards.
Jasmine and Harper were in the second-floor playroom building a fort out of pillows when the house’s internal siren suddenly began to wail—a low, rhythmic, terrifying sound that turned the modern glass walls into an echo chamber.
The lights flickered once, then died, plunging the house into the gray twilight of the snowstorm.
"Jasmine!" Harper screamed, throwing herself into Jasmine’s arms, her body trembling violently. "The bad men are back! The lights are gone!"
"Shh, I've got you, Harper. I've got you," Jasmine whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs as her survival instincts took over. She remembered Jackson’s explicit instructions: If the primary alarm sounds, you go to the panic room behind the wine cellar. You don't look back.
Jasmine lifted Harper into her arms, ignoring the weight, and sprinted out into the dark hallway. Downstairs, the sound of glass shattering echoed through the grand foyer, followed instantly by the rapid, deafening pops of suppressed gunfire.
"Intruders on the West terrace!" Dmitri’s voice shouted through the security intercom before a static burst cut him off.
Jasmine ran down the back service staircase, her feet flying over the concrete steps. She reached the basement level, the air turning cold and damp. She sprinted through the long rows of wine racks until she reached the heavy, reinforced steel door hidden behind a false brick panel.
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She punched the seven-digit code Jackson had made her memorize into the electronic keypad. The light flashed green, and the heavy door slid open with a soft pneumatic hiss.
But before she could push Harper inside, a heavy hand grabbed Jasmine’s hair from behind, ripping her backward with brutal force.
