Chapter 15 - BLOOD IN THE GARDEN
The estate was a war zone. Lorenzo dragged Evelyn behind the reinforced concrete pillars of the war room. He drew his customized 1911, his eyes scanning the security feeds that were rapidly going dark one by one. Dante came sliding down the corridor, an assault rifle in his hands, blood streaking down his face.
"They breached the main gate! They have armored SUVs and thermal optics," Dante shouted over the din of returning fire from the Moretti guards.
"They’re trying to pin us down and burn us out," Lorenzo said, his tactical mind assessing the impossible odds. "Dante, take the east wing. Hold the choke point at the grand staircase. Evelyn, you stay here in the vault. Do not open this door for anyone but me."
"No," Evelyn said firmly, pulling a compact Glock from the holster strapped to her thigh—a gift from Lorenzo she had trained with daily. "I’m not sitting in a box while you die. I can monitor their thermal movements on the internal grid and feed you their positions through your earpiece."
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Lorenzo looked at her, pride and terror warring in his eyes. He grabbed her face and kissed her hard. "If the grid goes down, you lock the vault. That is an order, Mrs. Moretti."
For the next hour, the estate echoed with the deafening roar of a localized war. Evelyn sat in the glowing light of the monitors, her voice a calm, steady lifeline in Lorenzo’s ear. Two tangos, left corridor. One sniper, rooftop access. Thanks to her precise navigation, Lorenzo and Dante decimated the strike team, moving like lethal shadows through their own home. When the sirens of the corrupted local police finally wailed in the distance, the Volkov strike team retreated, leaving the estate scarred but unbowed.
