Chapter 10 - The Last Stand on the Waterfront
The hallway outside Suite 402 erupted into absolute, violent chaos.
Gunfire rattled through the drywall in a deafening staccato rhythm—the sharp crack of pistols mixed with the heavier thud of submachine gun fire. Shouts, curses, and the sound of breaking glass echoed up the corridor as Marco and his men returned fire with ruthless efficiency.
Tessa crouched behind the steel supply cart, her hands clamped over her ears, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
This wasn't a hospital anymore. It was a battlefield.
And she was standing right in the crosshairs.
Luca didn't panic. He pulled a heavy, suppressed pistol from the hidden holster beneath his belt, checking the magazine with practiced, mechanical familiarity. He looked down at Tessa, his dark eyes fierce and unyielding.
“Stay down,” he commanded.
“Luca—!”
“Stay down!”
He surged up from behind the cart, stepping out into the doorway just as a masked Moretti operative rounded the corner with a rifle raised.
Two silent flashes illuminated the dim hallway.
The operative dropped instantly, collapsing hard against the tile.
More footsteps surged up the stairwell—three, maybe four men pushing through the smoke and emergency lighting. Marco appeared beside Luca, firing methodically around the doorframe until his clip clicked empty.
“Boss! There’s too many of them coming up the fire escape! We have to move—now!” Marco shouted over the gunfire.
Luca didn't hesitate. He grabbed Tessa’s arm, hauling her to her feet, and pulled her toward the private elevator reserved exclusively for executive transport—an elevator that required a biometric thumbprint and a master code to operate.
“In!” Luca ordered, shoving her inside the small car.
Marco stood guard at the threshold, firing his remaining rounds down the hallway as glass rained down from the ceiling.
Luca pressed his thumb against the digital scanner and punched in a rapid sequence. The heavy steel doors slid shut just as a hail of bullets impacted the outer panels with a deafening clank.
The elevator dropped rapidly toward the subterranean loading docks.
Tessa stood in the corner of the moving car, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her hands trembling. She looked at Luca. The bandage beneath his shirt was starting to stain dark red where his stitches had strained during the firefight, but his face remained a mask of absolute, terrifying control.
“You’re bleeding,” she whispered.
“It’s nothing,” Luca dismissed shortly, watching the digital floor numbers tick downward.
The elevator slowed to a smooth stop, and the doors opened directly into the dark, echoing expanse of the hospital’s underground delivery bay. A black armored SUV sat idling by the exit ramp, its headlights off, engines purring in the shadows.
Marco’s men were already waiting by the vehicle, securing the perimeter.
Luca pulled Tessa out of the elevator, keeping her shielded behind his body as they sprinted toward the open rear door of the SUV.
“Get in,” Luca ordered, pushing her into the leather-lined interior.
He slid in beside her just as the vehicle’s tires squealed against the concrete, accelerating up the ramp and bursting out into the cool, rain-washed air of the Baltimore waterfront.
Inside the dark, speeding vehicle, the gunfire faded into the distant hum of the city.
Tessa slumped back against the leather seat, staring out the rain-streaked window as the familiar skyline blurred past. Her normal life, her quiet apartments, her detached float-pool shifts—all of it was gone, swept away in the span of thirty-six hours by a dying mafia boss who had opened his eyes and given only two words to the world: Protect her.
Luca sat beside her in the dim cabin, his breathing heavy, his hand pressing firmly against his bleeding side. He looked over at her, his dark eyes softening just a fraction in the shadows.
“Are you hurt?” he asked quietly.
Tessa looked down at her hands—still stained with the antiseptic and sweat of an impossible night. Then she looked back at him.
“No,” she whispered, a strange, defiant calm finally settling over her. “I’m not hurt.”
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Luca gave a slow, approving nod, leaning his head back against the seat as the armored vehicle raced deeper into the dark, protective labyrinth of the city.
The war for the Baltimore waterfront had only just begun. But as long as they were side by side, the line would hold.
