Chapter 5 - The Intruder
Darkness swallowed the estate, broken only by the pulsing strobes of crimson emergency backup beacons. The sound of distant gunfire rattled against the stone walls—sharp, staccato pops echoing like firecrackers across the grounds.
“Move, Miss Ava!” Dante commanded, his massive hand clamping around my bicep, dragging me through the darkened corridors toward the west wing.
Clutching the cold, heavy revolver in my sweaty right hand, I ran, my healed ankle screaming under the sudden strain. Every shadow looked like an assassin; every groan of the ancient estate sounded like a breaching charge.
“Where’s Emma?” I gasped, panic clawing at my throat. “Dante, where is my daughter?!”
“Safe room B is in the basement cellar, reinforced steel!” Dante yelled over the roar of another explosion echoing from the front courtyard. “The boss is engaging them at the south gate! We have to secure you first!”
We reached the heavy oak door leading to the cellar stairs. Dante entered the seven-digit security code into the electronic panel.
The keypad flashed red. ERROR. ACCESS DENIED.
Dante swore violently in Italian. “The mainframe has been overridden from the interior terminal! Someone bypassed the grid!”
The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. The leak.
Luca was right. Someone inside the compound had betrayed him.
Suddenly, a shadow peeled away from the end of the corridor.
A sharp thwip-thwip of a suppressed weapon hissed through the air. Dante grunted, his massive frame jerking backward as two rounds struck his tactical vest. The kinetic force threw him against the wall. He slumped to one knee, coughing, his rifle clattering to the hardwood floor.
“Dante!” I screamed.
“Run, Ava!” he choked out, reaching for his sidearm.
Footsteps echoed on the marble. Slow. Deliberate. Confident.
A man stepped into the red sweep of the emergency strobe.
He wore a tailored tactical jacket, his hands encased in black leather gloves. His face was leaner than I remembered, his jaw sharper, a faint scar running through his left eyebrow. But those pale blue eyes, that mocking, crooked smirk—I would have recognized them in hell.
Jake.
My voice died in my throat. The revolver hung limp in my hand.
“Hello, Ava,” Jake murmured, his voice as smooth and seductive as the day he whispered promises into my ear four years ago. “You’re looking remarkably well for a woman who was clearing tables at Marino’s two weeks ago.”
“Jake…” The name tore from my lips like poison. “You son of a bitch.”
Jake smiled, stepping closer, completely ignoring Dante, who was struggling to rise from the floor. “Now, is that any way to greet your fiancé? After all the trouble I went through to track you down?”
“You used me,” I sobbed, rage finally piercing through the paralyzing terror. I raised the silver revolver, pointing the barrel straight at his chest, my hands shaking violently. “You used Emma! You wanted to sell our daughter’s blood to Russian gangsters!”
Jake’s smile didn't falter. He didn't even look at the gun.
“Business is business, darling,” Jake chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Your father was a genius, Ava. But he was a coward. He sat on an algorithm worth forty million dollars and did nothing with it. I simply found a market. And our little Emma… she’s my daughter too, isn't she? A father has a right to his child’s inheritance.”
“She’s not your daughter!” I screamed. “She’s a human being! And you’re a monster!”
“Put the gun down, Ava,” Jake’s tone turned abruptly cold, the fake charm evaporating like steam. “You’ve never fired a weapon in your life. You don't have the stomach for it.”
He took a step toward me.
“Don’t move!” I shouted, cocking the hammer with a sharp metallic click.
Behind Jake, Dante groaned, trying to lift his pistol. Jake spun around with lightning reflexes and kicked Dante squarely in the jaw. The sickening sound of bone cracking echoed through the hall, and Dante collapsed unconscious onto the floor.
Jake turned back to me, his blue eyes flashing with venom. “Last warning, Ava. Hand over the gun, tell me where the safe room override key is, and I might let you live long enough to say goodbye to our little girl.”
Tears streamed down my face. My finger hovered over the curved trigger.
Aim for the center of the chest. Pull until it clicks.
Luca’s voice echoed in my skull.
Jake lunged.
I pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The recoil kicked savagely through my wrists, the deafening roar of the gunshot filling the corridor. The bullet tore through the fabric of Jake’s right shoulder. He grunted in agony, stumbling backward against the wall, clutching his bleeding arm.
“You crazy bitch!” Jake snarled, his face twisted in disbelief and shock.
I tried to pull the trigger again, but Jake was faster. He threw his weight into me, slamming me against the drywall. The revolver was knocked from my hand, clattering across the floor out of reach. His left hand clamped around my throat, pinning me, squeezing the air from my windpipe.
Black spots danced before my eyes. I clawed at his wrist, kicking frantically, but his weight pinned me flat.
“I was going to make this quick,” Jake hissed into my face, his breath foul against my cheek. “Now, I’m going to make you watch while the Russians draw every drop of data from her little veins—”
A sudden, thunderous blast echoed behind him.
The door at the end of the hallway blew off its hinges with a tremendous splintering crash.
A figure emerged through the dust and smoke like an avenging demon.
Luca.
His suit jacket was gone, his white shirt shredded and drenched in blood, his dark eyes burning with murderous, primal rage. In his right hand, he held a heavy tactical shotgun.
“Get your hands off her,” Luca whispered.
The sound of his voice froze the blood in Jake’s veins.
Jake whipped around, releasing my throat, scrambling to reach his dropped weapon.
Luca didn't hesitate. He closed the distance in two predatory strides, grabbed Jake by the collar of his tactical jacket, and hurled him violently into the opposite wall. The plaster shattered on impact.
Jake hit the floor, gasping for breath, spitting blood.
Luca stood over him, leveling the barrel of the shotgun directly between Jake’s eyes.
“Brother,” Luca said, his voice dripping with deadly venom. “You made a mistake coming into my house.”
Jake looked up, blood pouring from his bullet wound, but a twisted, defiant smirk broke across his lips.
“Kill me, Luca,” Jake wheezed, coughing up blood. “Go on. Pull the trigger. But if you kill me, you’ll never know which one of your precious lieutenants sold you out to the Petrovs. And you’ll never know where the second bomb is planted.”
Luca’s finger tightened on the trigger.
“Luca, wait!” I gasped, falling to my knees beside Dante, clutching my bruised throat. “The bomb! Emma is downstairs!”
Luca froze.
In that split second of hesitation, Jake reached into his tactical pocket, pulled a miniature flashbang grenade, and ripped the pin with his teeth.
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“Down!” Luca roared.
Luca lunged forward, throwing his entire body over mine, shielding me with his frame as an ear-splitting white detonation ripped through the hallway.
