Chapter 12 - Blood on the Threshold
The front window shattered inward in an explosion of glass and splintered wood.
A flash-bang grenade rolled across the hardwood floor, blindingly bright and deafeningly loud. Elena threw herself over Leo’s carrier, shielding her son with her entire body as the shockwave ripped pictures from the walls.
Dante didn't flinch. Having survived dozens of ambushes across his brutal rise to the top, his muscle memory took over. As the smoke billowed into the living room, two men in black tactical gear and Kevlar vests breached the ruined front door, their assault rifles raised.
Dante leaned out from behind the pillar and fired three double-taps in rapid succession.
The suppressed pops were barely audible over the ringing in Elena's ears, but the results were catastrophic. The lead operative collapsed backward onto the porch, blood spraying against the white frame, while the second stumbled, taking two rounds directly through the unarmored seam of his neck.
"Move! To the cellar!" Dante shouted over the din, grabbing Elena by the elbow and hauling her toward the back hallway.
Another spray of automatic gunfire tore through the plaster walls, chewing up the kitchen cabinets and showering them in shredded flour and splintered oak. Elena sprinted down the narrow corridor, clutching Leo tightly to her chest. The baby began to scream, terrified by the deafening noise.
"The cellar door leads to the old storm drain on the beach," Elena yelled over the gunfire. "There’s an iron grate that opens to the rocks!"
"Go!" Dante returned fire down the hallway, pinning down two more attackers who were advancing through the dining room. "I’m right behind you!"
They scrambled down the rickety wooden stairs into the damp, cold darkness of the cellar. The air smelled of salt and mildew. Dante slammed the heavy oak door shut behind them and dropped the iron security crossbar into place. Heavy thuds and shouted Russian commands immediately began hammering against the wood from the other side.
"Spetsnaz contractors," Dante muttered through gritted teeth, reloading with a fresh magazine from his pocket. "Victor spared no expense."
Elena kicked aside a stack of wooden lobster traps, revealing the rusted iron door set directly into the stone foundation. She pulled with all her strength, but the latch was rusted solid from the ocean salt.
"It won't budge!" she cried, panic rising in her throat as Leo's cries grew shriller.
Dante stepped up beside her. He jammed the barrel of his sidearm against the rusted latch mechanism and pulled the trigger twice. Sparks flew, the metal cracked, and with a violent heave of his shoulder, Dante smashed the iron door open into the foggy sea air.
"Run along the waterline toward the southern cove," Dante commanded, his eyes burning with an intensity she hadn't seen since the night they were married. "I left a secondary vehicle hidden in the boathouse."
"Dante, you can't hold them off alone!" Elena grabbed his coat sleeve, her fingers digging into the wool. "There are at least six of them!"
Dante looked down at her, then reached out with an unsteady hand, gently touching the soft cheek of his son for the very first time in his life. A tear cut a clean path through the gunpowder soot on his face.
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"I spent years tearing down everyone who threatened me," he said softly. "Let me save the only two people who ever mattered. Go, Elena. She wins. Remember?"
***
