Chapter 4 - The Night of Fire
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The distant, concussive heavy thuds of automatic gunfire shattered the quiet night, echoing through the thick stone walls of the mansion. Sirens began to blare across the estate, flashing red lights illuminating the dark hallways.
"Clara! Get to the nursery now!" Rico barked, drawing a sleek black Sig Sauer 9mm pistol from his shoulder holster with practiced, terrifying speed.
Clara didn't hesitate. She turned and sprinted out of the study, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird.
The hallway was filled with chaos. Armed guards were running toward the grand staircase, shouting tactical commands over their radios. Glass shattered on the ground floor as heavy boots kicked through the French doors of the conservatory.
Clara burst into the nursery.
Leo was already awake, sitting up in his race-car bed, his small face pale with terror as the loud explosions shook the ceiling dust down onto his blankets. He had his hands clamped over his ears, hyperventilating.
"Clara!" Leo cried out, his small voice cracking. "Clara!"
"I'm here, baby! I'm here!" Clara shouted, rushing to the bed and scooping the three-year-old into her arms. She wrapped him in a heavy wool blanket, pressing his head against her chest so he couldn't see the flashing red lights.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
A burst of automatic rifle fire ripped through the hallway right outside the nursery door. Plaster exploded off the walls, wood splintering into sharp shrapnel.
Clara dropped to her knees behind the heavy oak wardrobe, shielding Leo’s body with her own.
"Hold onto me, Leo! Hold on tight!" she whispered frantically, kissing the top of his head as he wept against her neck.
The mahogany door of the nursery was kicked off its hinges with a deafening CRACK!
A heavy-set man wearing a black tactical vest and a ski mask stepped into the room, holding an AK-47. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on Clara cowering behind the wardrobe.
"Found the kid!" the hitman yelled into his radio, raising his rifle. "Taking the heir—"
BOOM! BOOM!
Two heavy gunshot blasts echoed through the room.
The hitman’s eyes rolled back into his head as two holes opened up in his chest. He collapsed forward, crashing onto the hardwood floor in a pool of dark blood.
Standing in the doorway, framed by smoke and holding his smoking pistol with two hands, was Rico Moretti. His white shirt was splattered with blood, his hair wild, his eyes burning with the cold, unholy fury of a demon protectively guarding its den.
"Clara!" Rico shouted, stepping over the dead body. "Move! The panic room in the master bedroom—now!"
Clara stood up, clutching Leo tightly, and ran toward Rico.
As they crossed the threshold into the hallway, another hitman appeared at the end of the corridor, raising a shotgun.
"Rico, look out!" Clara screamed.
Rico didn't look. He grabbed Clara by her waist, spinning her around so his own back took the force of the blast.
BOOM!
Shotgun pellets tore through Rico’s left shoulder and back. He let out a strangled groan of pain, stumbling against the wall, but he didn't fall. He raised his pistol with his right hand and fired three rapid shots, dropping the attacker instantly.
"Rico!" Clara gasped, seeing blood soaking through his white shirt.
"Keep moving!" Rico growled through gritted teeth, blood trickling from his lip. "I'm fine! Move!"
They reached the master bedroom. Rico slammed his palm against a hidden scanner behind a gilded painting of his ancestors. A heavy, six-inch-thick steel blast door slid open from the wall, revealing a secure, fortress-like room equipped with emergency medical supplies, monitors, and secure satellite communications.
Rico shoved Clara and Leo inside.
"Get in!" Rico ordered.
"You have to come inside!" Clara cried, grabbing his arm. "You're bleeding out!"
"I have to clear my house," Rico snarled, his blue eyes flashing with lethal resolve. "If I go in there, they trap us inside. Lock the door from the inside, Clara. Do not open it for anyone except me or Dante. If you hear three heavy knocks followed by two soft ones, it’s safe."
"Rico, please—"
"Protect my son!" Rico roared.
He reached out, hit the door override button on the wall, and stepped back. The heavy steel door slid shut with a terrifying, absolute pneumatic THUD.
The heavy locks engaged. Silence descended upon the panic room, isolating Clara and Leo from the war raging outside.
Clara fell back against the steel wall, sliding down to the floor, holding the weeping boy in her lap. She listened to the muffled thuds of gunfire vibrating through the walls, every shot feeling like a countdown to her own execution.
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She held Leo, rocked him back and forth, and whispered a prayer into the dark room, realizing with horrifying clarity that she was no longer just a paid employee.
She was in love with Rico Moretti. And he was out there dying for them.
