The Billionaire Heir Nobody Saw Coming

6. Trust No Blood 3

The blue shards of the shattered grid fizzed out like dying stars. For a heartbeat, the tunnel held only the howl of alarms and the low, ominous rumble from above.

The hooded figures advanced, silhouettes etched in the strobing red light. The guard raised his pistol. “Stay back!”

They didn’t. The first figure spread empty hands. “Jacob, we are not your enemy.”

“You broke into my home,” Jacob snapped, “and threatened my family.”

“Because your family threatens the world,” the second figure said. The voice, still distorted, carried a strange familiarity that prickled the back of his neck.

Victoria stepped forward, trench coat swirling. “Stop this nonsense or you won’t leave alive.”

The first figure tilted its head. “Hello, Victoria. Still guarding secrets no one should keep?”

Something flickered in her eyes. Recognition. “You,” she said tightly. “I should have guessed.”

Jacob’s pulse jumped. “You know them?”

Before she could answer, a concussive boom rolled through the corridor, so deep it felt like the earth itself shifted. Dust rained from the stone ceiling. “Vault seals disengaging,” the guard said grimly.

The second figure’s voice sharpened. “Time’s up. Hand over the key or everyone upstairs dies.”

Jacob’s fingers brushed the titanium case in his pocket.  “Why should I believe anything you say?”

The first figure stepped closer until the red light revealed a glimpse of pale jawline beneath the hood. “Because you can hear it too.”

Another rumble, louder this time, vibrated through the tunnel floor, an unnatural, metallic heartbeat.

“That,” the figure said, “is the vault awakening. Your grandfather triggered it long ago. We only nudged the clock.”

Victoria drew a slim, black pistol from beneath her coat. “You won’t reach the vault.”

The figure gave a slow, mocking bow. “Perhaps not. But he will.”

A new sound sliced through the alarms: quick, decisive footsteps from the far end of the corridor.

Everyone turned. A third figure emerged from the darkness, tall, broad-shouldered, face bare. Jacob’s breath caught. “Uncle Marcus?”

Marcus Smith, Victor’s younger brother, strode into the strobing light with the calm of a man walking his own estate. He wore a tailored midnight suit and an expression of quiet authority. “Lower your weapons,” Marcus said. “All of you.”

Victoria’s pistol wavered but stayed raised. “Marcus… you?”

He offered her a cool smile. “Sister. Always dramatic.”

Jacob’s mind spun. “You’re behind this?”

Marcus’s eyes met his. “Behind? No. Ahead, perhaps.”

The hooded pair stepped aside, almost deferential. Marcus glanced at them. “Leave us.”

Without a word, the two figures melted into the shadows, their footsteps silent. The guard muttered, “What the hell…”

Marcus faced Jacob. “Give me the key, nephew.”

“No,” Jacob said flatly.

Marcus sighed as if disappointed. “I was hoping this could be civilized.”

Victoria moved between them. “You don’t deserve it.”

“Neither does Father,” Marcus said evenly. “He squandered decades hiding power the world needs.”

Jacob steadied his voice. “Why? What’s in that vault?”

Marcus’s gaze sharpened. “Blueprints. Energy beyond nations. Proof of… visitors. Knowledge to end hunger and topple empires. Father kept it buried to protect his precious balance sheets.”

“Visitors?” Jacob echoed.

“Not tonight’s lesson,” Marcus said. “Hand me the cylinder. I’ll stop the failsafe and no one dies.”

The guard barked, “Don’t listen.”

Marcus flicked a glance at him and, impossibly fast, drew a compact stunner. A flash of blue light crackled. The guard dropped to one knee, weapon clattering. “Enough games,” Marcus said.

Victoria’s finger tightened on her trigger. “Take one more step and I will shoot.”

Marcus smiled sadly. “You’d kill your own brother?”

“I should have years ago.”

He spread his hands. “You can’t stop the vault. Only the key can. And Jacob has it.”

Another massive groan echoed from above, the unmistakable grinding of colossal gears. The floor trembled.

Marcus took a careful step forward, eyes on Jacob. “Every second you hesitate brings collapse. Decide.”

Jacob felt the weight of the titanium case, the pistol slick in his other hand. “Grandfather warned me not to trust blood,” he said.

Marcus’s mouth curved into a cold half-smile. “Wise words. He just never told you which blood.”

Victoria snapped, “Don’t you dare.”

Marcus moved in a blur. A shot cracked through the tunnel. Victoria staggered back, gun tumbling from her grasp. 

A dark stain spread across her sleeve where the bullet had grazed, but her eyes blazed. Jacob raised his pistol, fury surging. “Stop!”

Marcus didn’t flinch. “Choose, Jacob! Hand it over or the vault devours everything.”

The alarms screamed, a metallic wail joined by the deep, resonant thrum of something ancient waking beneath the villa.

Dust rained in thick clouds. Stone groaned like a living thing. Victoria, clutching her bleeding arm, locked eyes with her son. “Don’t give it to him!”

Marcus extended a steady hand. “The world or a dynasty, nephew. Decide.”

The ceiling above split with a thunderous crack. A rush of frigid air tore through the corridor, lights flaring and dying.

In the strobing darkness, Jacob clutched the cylinder, the weight of every choice pressing like a blade. Behind him, the vault roared open.