Chapter 7 - Ambush on the Grande Corniche
The ride back along the cliffside road was suffocatingly tense.
The armored Maybach led the convoy, followed by two security chase vehicles. Rain was beginning to lash against the reinforced glass, blurring the twinkling lights of Monaco below them.
Seraphina sat in the rear, her chest heaving as the adrenaline slowly drained from her veins. Elias sat beside her, checking the magazine of a matte-black Sig Sauer before sliding it back beneath his arm.
“You handled yourself well,” he said, not looking at her. “Most women would have fainted.”
“Most women haven't had to dodge immigration police and street gangs in three different countries,” she replied dryly, rubbing her temples. “Mateo won't wait until dawn, Elias. You humiliated him in front of every boss in Europe. He’s going to strike.”
“I’m counting on it,” Elias said softly.
Before she could ask what he meant, a blinding flash of high beams appeared around the hairpin curve ahead.
CRASH.
A heavy construction truck barreled out of the fog, plowing directly into the lead security vehicle and sending it tumbling over the guardrail into the abyss below.
“Hold on!” the driver screamed, slamming the Maybach into reverse.
Automatic gunfire shredded the night. Bullets pinged against the bulletproof glass like torrential hail. From the forested hillside above, three black vans skidded to a halt, disgorging masked men armed with assault rifles.
“Down!” Elias grabbed Seraphina by the waist, shoving her to the floorboards and covering her body with his own as the windows spider-webbed under the onslaught of heavy caliber rounds.
The car’s engine shrieked as the driver tried to spin the vehicle around, but a rocket-propelled grenade struck the front right wheel-well. The Maybach lifted into the air, spinning violently before crashing onto its side against the rock face.
Smoke filled the cabin. Glass crunched.
Seraphina’s vision swam. Her head throbbed where it had struck the door frame. “Elias…”
He was already moving, kicking the damaged top door open with brute force. Blood trickled from a cut above his brow, but his eyes were blazing with feral intensity.
“Can you move?” he barked, hauling her out of the wreckage into the freezing downpour.
“Yes,” she coughed, pulling the heavy velvet dress up so she could run.
Behind them, Stefan and two surviving guards emerged from the rear chase car, returning fire into the tree line to buy them time. “Go, boss! Take the cliff path to the cove! We’ll hold them!”
“Stefan—” Seraphina began.
“Run!” Elias grabbed her hand, dragging her through a rusted iron gate that led down a treacherous, rain-slicked path carved into the sheer limestone cliffs.
Bullets chipped stone around their feet. Below them, three hundred feet down, the Mediterranean churned violently against the razor-sharp rocks.
Suddenly, a figure stepped out from the shadow of an abandoned coastal bunker ahead of them.
Marco Moretti.
He held a pump-action shotgun leveled directly at Seraphina’s chest. Rain plastered his hair to his face, his teeth bared in a wild, desperate grin.
“End of the line, cousin,” Marco shouted over the roar of the surf. “Uncle Mateo sends his regards!”
Before Elias could raise his weapon, Seraphina acted.
She didn't run. She didn't cower. Using the momentum of their downhill slide, she reached into the pocket of Elias’s overcoat, whipped out the heavy platinum signet ring, and hurled it with pinpoint accuracy directly into Marco’s eyes.
The heavy ring struck Marco’s temple with a wet crack. He staggered backward, his shot discharging harmlessly into the storm clouds.
In that half-second of distraction, Elias closed the distance.
Two deafening gunshots cracked through the rain. Marco’s eyes went blank, his shotgun tumbling from his grip as his body slid off the cliff’s edge, swallowed whole by the black, churning waves below.
Elias stood over the drop, chest heaving, rain washing the blood from his face. He turned back to Seraphina, who stood shivering in the torrential rain, her blue velvet dress ruined, her hands clenched into fists.
May you like
He caught her by the waist and pulled her against his chest. For a moment, neither of them breathed. His heart hammered against her ribs, wild and savage.
“You’re alive,” he breathed against her wet hair. “You’re alive.”
