Chapter 9 - THE AMBUSH AT THE BARN
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The warmth inside the cedar farmhouse was shattered forty minutes later by the sharp, metallic crunch of gravel in the driveway.
Daniel’s frantic voice cut through the quiet kitchen from the front porch.
“Boss! We have incoming!”
“Two black Mercedes SUVs just breached the orchard gate!”
Elena gasped, instinctively pulling Mateo behind her against the kitchen counter.
“It’s Salvatore,” Elena whispered, her face draining of every drop of color.
“He followed your tracks from the highway!”
Luca’s demeanor transformed in a fraction of a second from a weeping father to a lethal, calculating warlord.
He set Mateo down gently beside me, his hands resting firmly on my shoulders.
“Claire, take Elena and Mateo down into the fruit cellar through the pantry trapdoor,” Luca commanded.
“Lock the iron bolt from underneath.”
“Do not open that hatch for anyone except me or Daniel.”
“Luca, be careful,” I pleaded, clutching his arm, terrified of the violence awaiting him outside.
Luca looked into my eyes, leaning down to press a swift, fierce kiss against my lips that tasted of coffee and adrenaline.
“I have a son to raise, Claire,” he whispered against my mouth.
“I am not dying today.”
He pulled his tactical carbine from behind the kitchen door, racked the slide with a thunderous clatter, and kicked the back screen door open.
I grabbed Mateo’s small hand, pulling him toward the dark oak pantry where Elena was already lifting the heavy wooden trapdoor.
“Come on, sweetie, let’s play hide and seek,” I whispered to the boy, keeping my voice bright despite the terror clawing at my throat.
“Are the bad wolves outside?” Mateo asked, his little eyes searching mine.
“Your daddy is the eagle, remember?” I smiled through my fear.
“He’s going to chase the wolves away.”
Mateo nodded bravely, climbing down the wooden ladder into the cool, dark cellar smelling of aged cider and apples.
Elena followed, and I pulled the heavy oak hatch closed above our heads, sliding the thick iron bolt into place just as gunfire erupted outside.
The sound of high-caliber rifles echoed through the floorboards above us, shaking dust and cobwebs from the timber beams.
Mateo whimpered, burying his face in his mother’s lap as Elena wrapped both arms around him, rocking him in the shadows.
I stood at the base of the ladder, looking up at the cracks of light between the floorboards.
Through the narrow gaps, I could hear shouting, the shatter of glass, and the relentless, rhythmic thud of Luca’s weapon returning fire.
Salvatore Bellini’s gravelly roar carried through the farmhouse walls:
“Moretti! Come out and face the Commission like a man!”
“Your empire is surrounded! The docks belong to me!”
Then came Luca’s cold, terrifying reply from the porch:
“The only thing that belongs to you, Salvatore, is six feet of frozen dirt!”
A massive explosion rocked the foundation of the house as a fuel tank near the barn erupted in a ball of fire.
Footsteps thudded heavily across the kitchen floor directly above our heads.
Someone was walking through the house, their heavy boots dragging across the pine boards.
The handle of the pantry door clicked open.
Then, heavy footsteps stopped directly on top of the wooden trapdoor.
The iron bolt below began to rattle as someone shoved a prybar into the crack above.
Elena let out a muffled scream, clutching Mateo to her chest.
I didn't think; I didn't hesitate.
I looked around the dark fruit cellar, spotted a heavy iron tire iron leaning against a stack of crates, and gripped it with both hands.
I climbed three rungs up the wooden ladder, my knuckles white, my jaw set with a ferocity I never knew I possessed.
If anyone tried to touch that little boy, they would have to kill me first.
The wooden hatch splintered with a deafening crack as the wood gave way.
A figure dropped through the opening into the cellar gloom.
I swung the iron bar with all my might.
A large, tattooed hand caught the steel bar inches from his face, freezing the blow mid-air with effortless strength.
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“Easy, Claire,” Luca’s deep, breathless voice rumbled in the dark.
“It’s me.”
