Chapter 9 - The Breach
The window behind us exploded in a shower of crystallized glass.
Before the sound of the blast had even finished echoing through the timber rafters, Luca moved with terrifying speed. His arm hooked around my waist, lifting me off the sofa and slamming me down onto the hardwood floor behind the massive stone hearth, his own heavy, muscular body covering mine completely.
A second bullet thudded into the oak mantelpiece right where my head had been seconds before.
“Stay down!” Luca barked, his voice stripped of all warmth, replaced instantly by the cold, lethal command of a warlord under siege.
From the woods outside, the rapid-fire chatter of automatic weapons erupted, answered immediately by the heavier, disciplined thumping of his security team’s rifles. Sirens wailed across the perimeter, their red emergency lights painting the high timber ceilings in streaks of blood.
“Sofia!” I cried out, panic seizing my throat like a vice. “She’s in the back room!”
“Frank is with her,” Luca said, pulling a heavy black semi-automatic pistol from a concealed holster beneath his sweater. The steel clicked as he chambered a round. “The back room is reinforced steel. She’s safe. But they've breached the south gate.”
The front doors of the lodge burst open. Frank rushed in, his tactical vest smeared with soot, his assault rifle raised.
“Boss! It’s Marco!” Frank yelled over the deafening roar of gunfire outside. “He brought two dozen hired guns from the south side syndicate! They cut the power lines and drove an armored truck straight through the timber barrier!”
Luca rose to a crouch, his eyes burning with a terrifying, unholy fire. “How many through the perimeter?”
“Ten or twelve! They're flanking the east terrace!”
Another spray of bullets shattered the remaining French doors, shredding the velvet curtains into ribbons. Shards of glass rained down on the rug.
“Emma,” Luca said, turning to look at me. His face was streaked with soot, but his eyes were completely focused, pinning me in place. “You stay behind Frank. You go into the panic room with Sofia. You lock the door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone except me.”
“Luca, no—they're trying to kill you!” Tears sprang to my eyes as I grabbed the sleeve of his sweater, terrified of what lay outside that shattered door. “Don't go out there!”
He looked down at my hand clutching his arm, then reached up, his hand cupping the back of my neck. He pulled me toward him and pressed his forehead against mine, his breath hot and ragged against my skin.
“Nobody touches what is mine,” he growled, the raw possessiveness in his voice vibrating straight through my bones. “Now go.”
He shoved Frank toward me. “Get them inside. Now!”
Before I could scream his name again, Luca turned toward the shattered terrace and stepped out into the dark, frozen hell of the night.
Gunfire exploded on the patio.
Frank grabbed my arm, practically dragging me down the reinforced hallway toward the master suite. My ankle screamed in protest, but adrenaline drowned out the pain. We reached the bedroom just as the heavy wooden door to the terrace began to splinter under a sledgehammer.
Sofia was huddled in the corner beneath a heavy quilt, crying hysterically.
“Emma!” she shrieked, seeing me through the gloom.
“I'm here, baby! I'm here!” I lunged across the floor, scooping her into my arms and burying her face against my neck.
“Into the safe room! Hurry!” Frank shouted, punching an eight-digit code into the keypad hidden behind the wardrobe. The heavy steel door clicked open.
Just as Frank moved to push us inside, the bedroom door gave way with a deafening splinter of oak.
Two men in black tactical gear burst into the room, assault rifles leveled.
“Frank, look out!” I screamed.
Frank turned and fired two rapid shots, dropping the first man instantly, but the second gunman fired a burst that caught Frank in the shoulder, spinning him violently to the ground.
The second gunman stepped over his fallen comrade, his rifle pointing straight at Sofia and me.
I didn't think. I didn't hesitate.
I turned my back to the barrel, throwing my entire body over Sofia, wrapping my arms around her head and curling into a ball on the floor. I braced for the searing impact of lead tearing through my flesh.
*Bang!*
A deafening shot echoed through the room.
A spray of warm liquid splattered across the back of my neck.
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain.
Nothing happened.
A heavy thud shook the floorboards beside me. I slowly opened my eyes.
The gunman lay flat on his back, a neat, smoking hole dead center in his forehead.
Standing in the shattered doorway was Luca.
His pistol was raised, smoke curling lazily from the barrel. His left arm was grazed, blood soaking through the dark wool of his sweater, his face smeared with dirt and gunpowder. Behind him, the gunfire in the woods had completely died down, replaced only by the crackle of burning timber and the wail of distant sirens.
Luca lowered the weapon.
He crossed the room in two strides, falling to his knees on the floor beside us. His trembling, bloody hands reached out, hauling both Sofia and me into his chest in a desperate, bone-crushing embrace.
“I’ve got you,” he choked out, his voice breaking as he buried his face in my hair, his chest heaving with ragged sobs of relief. “I’ve got you both. It’s over.”
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Sofia clutched at his sweater, weeping openly, while I buried my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of cedar, smoke, and the wild, terrifying man who had just torn through hell to keep us alive.
***
