Chapter 7 - The Siege of the Rossi Manor
Dominic moved with the speed of an apex predator, shoving me behind the reinforced steel desk in a single motion.
Heavy caliber rounds shattered the floor-to-ceiling library windows, sending shards of glass and masonry raining over the room.
The deafening roar of automatic gunfire ripped through the estate, drowning out the fury of the midnight storm outside.
Enzo returned fire through the shattered terrace, yelling targets to the Rossi soldiers scrambling across the upper parapets.
Dominic reached into the open safe, pulling out an assault weapon and several loaded magazines without showing an ounce of panic.
Stay down behind this mahogany slab, Clara; it is reinforced with Kevlar and steel plating, Dominic commanded.
I grabbed his sleeve as he prepared to step into the line of fire, my instinct to protect overriding my anger.
Dominic, there are too many of them, I cried, hearing explosions echoing from the lower courtyard below us.
He looked down at my hand clutching his coat, his dark eyes softening for an infinitesimal fraction of a second.
I told you once before, wife: anyone who wants your life has to walk through my ashes first.
He racked the slide of his weapon and stepped into the corridor, joining his men in a brutal counter-offensive.
The hallway became a killing floor filled with deafening muzzle flashes, choking cordite smoke, and dying screams.
I curled into a ball behind the reinforced desk, holding my knees tightly against my throbbing, damaged ribs.
Through the open doorway, I saw Dominic firing with terrifying precision, advancing through the smoke like an immortal specter.
He was struck once in the shoulder, but the impact barely broke his stride as he eliminated three advancing attackers.
Downstairs, Isabella was being escorted into the subterranean panic vault by two heavily armed guards.
Suddenly, a shadow lunged through the terrace window behind the desk, boots crunching violently across broken glass.
A massive mercenary clad in tactical gear leveled a shotgun directly at my cowering form with a sadistic grin.
Mrs. Rossi sends her regards, the man sneered, his finger tightening around the trigger mechanism.
I did not have a weapon, but my hand found the heavy brass banker's lamp resting on the fallen side table.
With every ounce of strength remaining in my recovering body, I swung the heavy brass base into his knee joint.
The bone cracked loudly, causing his shot to blow a massive hole harmlessly into the ceiling plaster above.
Before he could recover and crush my skull, a bullet passed through his temple from the doorway.
Dominic stood over the fallen body, lowering his smoking pistol, his tuxedo shredded and drenched in mixed blood.
He pulled me up from the floor, checking my face, my neck, and my torso with frantic, shaking hands.
Did he touch you, did he hurt you, Dominic demanded, his voice trembling with a vulnerability I had never seen in him.
I shook my head, coughing against the thick gray smoke filling the shattered library.
I am fine, but your shoulder is bleeding through your shirt, I gasped, pressing my palm against his wound.
He ignored his injury, dragging me down the service stairs toward the underground garage where armored vehicles waited.
Costa is not trying to kill us here, Dominic realized aloud, the dread creeping into his voice like a venomous snake.
This entire assault on the estate was a diversion to draw my best soldiers away from the outer perimeter.
Enzo met us at the armored SUV, his face pale beneath streaks of black soot and grease.
May you like
Dominic, we just lost communication with our cardiac outpost in Cleveland, Enzo announced with absolute horror.
Costa’s second strike team has taken the hospice, and they have your mother-in-law Ellen in their custody.
