Chapter 8 - The Betrayal at the Glass House
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The heavy reinforced glass of the dining room cracked into a spiderweb of white lines, but held—bulletproof glass, installed by Damian three months prior.
"DOWN!" Damian screamed.
In a fraction of a second, Damian lunged across the table, grabbing Elena and Sofia and dragging them both down to the hardwood floor just as a second salvo of heavy-caliber rounds shattered the outer framing of the window.
Luke and Marco drew their pistols instantly, returning fire through the fractured glass toward the treeline outside the estate gates.
"Clear the room! GO! GO!" Luke yelled, firing three rapid shots as he backed toward the double doors.
Salvatore didn't run. His four personal guards formed a moving wall of body armor around him, backing him cleanly out of the dining room into the foyer.
"You're done, Damian!" Salvatore’s voice boomed over the gunfire as he retreated. "The Commission has already approved the liquidation of your assets! By midnight, the Caruso name dies!"
"Luke! Take the left hall!" Damian ordered, pulling his Kimber .45 from his holster while keeping his left arm wrapped tightly around Elena and Sofia.
The room was filling with smoke from the tactical flashbangs Salvatore’s men had tossed into the hallway. The shrill ringing of the security alarms deafened the air.
Elena was pressed against the floor beneath Damian’s heavy frame. Sofia was sobbing hysterically against her neck.
"Damian!" Elena gasped, dust and glass falling into her hair. "They're inside the house!"
"Stay on me," Damian growled into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "I swore nobody touches you or Sofia. I meant it."
Damian rolled onto his knees, raising his pistol, and fired two precise shots into the smoke. A Salvatore gunman collapsed through the doorway with a heavy thud.
Damian grabbed Sofia in his left arm, hooked his right hand around Elena’s waist, and lifted her to her feet with sheer, brutal physical force. He dragged them through the private service door behind the dining room, down a narrow stone staircase that led directly to the underground security garage.
They burst into the subterranean garage. A black, custom-armored Mercedes G-Wagon sat idling in the center lane—Damian’s personal extraction vehicle.
Marco was already at the wheel, his door open, a submachine gun resting across his lap. "GET IN! THEY HAVE THE FRONT GATES BLOCKED!"
Damian threw the rear door open, shoving Elena and Sofia into the back leather seats before climbing in after them and slamming the heavy door shut.
"Drive!" Damian yelled.
Marco slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The heavy V8 engine roared, and the armored SUV hurtled forward, smashing through the lower wooden garage doors and bursting out onto the side lawn, spinning mud and gravel as it tore toward the estate's secondary exit.
Bullets rained against the side armor of the G-Wagon like heavy hail, but the glass held.
Inside the rear seat, Elena pulled Sofia into her lap, wrapping her body around the screaming child, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Damian reloaded his pistol with a crisp, practiced motion, his eyes burning with absolute, deadly focus. He looked back at Elena, seeing the terror in her face.
"Are you hit?" he asked, his hands rapidly checking her shoulders, her arms, her neck for blood.
"No... no, we're okay," Elena wheezed, shaking uncontrollably. "Where are we going?!"
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Damian reached out, his long fingers cupping the side of her face, forcing her to look into his dark eyes.
"To the Plaza," Damian said, his voice dropping into a chilling, low register. "Salvatore wants to kill us at midnight. We’re going to crash his party at nine."
