Chapter 3 - THE SMELL OF GUN OIL
The attack happened on a Tuesday. Sera was playing a soft, melodic scale on the piano, Nico resting in a sling against her chest, Leo asleep in his newly painted baby-blue crib. The first explosion rattled the foundation, sending a shockwave through the floorboards. The bulletproof glass spider-webbed as high-caliber rounds impacted from the tree line.
Instinct took over. Sera grabbed Leo, holding both twins tightly against her body, and dove beneath the reinforced steel desk in the corner of the room. The nursery door burst open, and Dante was there, an assault rifle in his hands, his face a mask of pure, lethal fury. "Are they hurt?" he roared over the gunfire. "No! We're safe!" Sera yelled back, pressing her hands over the babies' ears.
Dante didn't retreat to safety. He stood in the doorway of the nursery, holding the choke point, laying down suppressing fire while his men flanked the attackers outside. For twenty agonizing minutes, the house was a war zone. Beneath the desk, Sera hummed. She hummed the same steady, triplet-beat lullaby she had used in the restaurant, keeping her own heart rate as low as possible. Miraculously, amidst the deafening roar of automatic weapons, the twins did not cry. They clung to her, anchored by her heartbeat. When the shooting finally stopped, Dante dropped his weapon and fell to his knees beside the desk, pulling all three of them into his arms. His chest heaved, and for the first time, Sera saw tears in the Don's eyes.
