"A minute," she said.
They'd arrive in waves, swarming up from below like a tide of salvation, she said.
So then, why the hell weren't they here yet?!
How long had it been now? Five minutes? Maybe more?
Under ordinary circumstances, five minutes was a fleeting breath. Insignificant. But at this moment, caught in the fragile silence of a tension-soaked penthouse, it felt like a lifetime. More than enough time to expect some sort of response. Anything from the guards she said would be arriving.
This wasn't some average apartment in a sleepy neighbourhood. No. This was a multimillion-dollar fortress, built atop a foundation of opulence and protected by the legacy of a billionaire. Yet here Eric was, grappling with the fact that its greatest failing, its Achilles' heel was its security. Its goddamn protection detail was running late. Late! Damn it!
And worse? He was expected to stay silent about it? To not be incensed? To just accept the absence of trained personnel during an active threat?
One that involves the safety of their owner?!
Fine. Sure. He wouldn't lash out. Not outwardly at least.
He'd just chalk it up as more work dumped into his lap. As if his hands weren't full enough already.
"Something's not right," Marvelous muttered, voice laced with worry.
Eric resisted the urge to snap back with a sarcastic "No kidding." But the situation was far beyond jest. Her unease mirrored his own. The kind that didn't just settle in your gut but clawed its way into every thought.
"The guards should've arrived by now," she continued, eyes scanning the room like she expected them to come bursting in through the walls. "It's been too long."
Exactly. Eric's silence wasn't apathy, it was the product of a growing, unbearable frustration that logic barely kept in check.
"I think something's happening on the lower levels," she added, hesitant, but clearly voicing a suspicion she hadn't wanted to believe.
That implication sparked a new wave of dread. What was she suggesting? That this wasn't an isolated attack? That it wasn't just this penthouse under threat but the entire building? Or worse, the security force itself?
There was no time to chase wild theories. Eric didn't need speculation, he needed answers. Fast.
Thankfully, whoever had thrown that knife seemed content to bide their time. No follow-up. No immediate advance. Just the eerie stillness of someone waiting.
But that! That was another red flag, wasn't it?
No one hurls a blade with deadly precision and then goes radio silent for five long minutes. That's not how trained assassins, or even half-baked amateurs, operate.
So what was this? Patience? Arrogance? Or worse, an ongoing strategy?
They were stalling. Delaying on purpose.
But for what?
'Damn it!'
Eric clenched his jaw. The tension building in his head was becoming unbearable. Too many puzzle pieces, none fitting together, and not a single damn moment to sort through them.
Remaining here served no purpose. Each second gifted the enemy more time to prepare for whatever game they were playing.
If he wanted even a sliver of tactical advantage, Eric needed to shake up the board. Introduce chaos into their plan.
Unpredictability.
"Enough of this. We need to move. Sitting ducks make easy targets," he declared, breaking the silence with firm resolve.
Remaining still? That was doing absolutely nothing.
"No, we can't," Marvelous replied, tone firm with resistance.
"Say what?" Eric shot back, incredulous.
Yeah, say what?
Why cling to this exposed location with open windows and limited defence? Why stay rooted in a scenario soaked with uncertainty?
"My team's not responding. That's not normal," she explained, unease creeping into her voice. "Something's wrong. We can't step outside until we know what happened to them."
There was logic to her words. Grim, but undeniable.
She would know her security force best. And for someone of her stature, cutting corners on safety would be unthinkable. That meant this wasn't just a delay, this was a full-blown compromise.
Eric's instincts told him she was right. Whatever had happened, it had hit deep, and it had hit hard.
"So what do we do then? Wait it out?" Ramprandt finally spoke, voice low, uncertain.
It was a fair question.
Following Marvelous's instincts seemed wise. This is after all her domain. But waiting in a penthouse that practically screamed vulnerability? Not exactly a masterstroke.
Still, Eric and Ramprandt looked to her for guidance, silently hoping she had some rehearsed contingency tucked away. A panic tunnel, a hidden exit, anything.
But the expression she wore wasn't reassuring. No flicker of confidence, no glimmer of a plan. Just the same bewilderment etched across their own faces.
"If the help inside can't reach us, we'll have to find it outside," Eric said, pulling out his mobile device and dialling the emergency number.
Only for the screen to flash one cold, unrelenting phrase: No service.
That... made no sense.
He turned to Marvelous, raising a brow. "Please tell me you didn't install a privacy filter that blocks all external reception."
She shook her head. "Never. Signal strength here has always been perfect. Not once has there been a blackout."
Which meant…
This wasn't interference. It was sabotage.
And if someone had the power to cut comms from within this building, they weren't amateurs.
Eric took a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs as he tried to organize the chaos in his mind.
Let's recap.
A knife was thrown with such precision it punctured the window without shattering the glass entirely, just a clean, sharp puncture. A warning, perhaps, or a message in itself.
The security team, a unit expected to mobilize within seconds, remained eerily silent. And now, there was the ominous absence of cell reception in a building where such failure should be impossible.
None of it added up unless you considered the worst-case scenario.
And in Eric's eyes, there was only one conclusion to draw:
This was a coordinated attack.
Terrorism, in every sense of the word.
And they were right in the middle of it.