Chapter 8 - The Siege of Moretti Manor
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The heavy thunder of shotgun blasts shattered the reinforced glass of the grand foyer downstairs.
I gripped the cold steel of the handgun Luca had given me, the unfamiliar weight resting firmly in my palms.
Luca led Eleanor and me through a concealed doorway behind the mahogany bookcase into a narrow, fortified corridor.
"Stay low and keep your safety off," Luca instructed, checking the tactical monitors embedded in the corridor wall.
On the screens, I could see twelve heavily armed men in black tactical gear advancing through our smoke-filled courtyard.
They were moving in a professional diamond formation, firing military-grade assault rifles into the estate's outer defenses.
Dante and our security guards were returning fire from behind the overturned dining tables and the marble columns.
"They aren't here to negotiate," Luca noted grimly, watching the muzzle flashes illuminate the pouring rain outside.
"Arthur Sterling sent his top clean-up crew to erase every living soul in this house."
Suddenly, the ceiling above us shook violently as a grenade detonated in the ballroom directly beneath the east wing.
Plaster dust rained down on our heads like artificial snow, coating my dark hair and Eleanor's worn sweater.
"Eleanor, sit down behind this steel bulkhead," I ordered gently, helping her settle into a fortified alcove.
"I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise."
Eleanor looked up at me with tears shining in her eyes, her trembling lips murmuring a silent prayer for our survival.
Luca checked his ammunition magazine, his face settled into a mask of pure, calculated lethality.
"They've breached the grand staircase," Luca said, his eyes scanning the security feed.
"Dante is pinned down near the wine cellar with two wounded guards."
"I'm going down there," I said without hesitation, checking the grip on my weapon just as Luca had shown me.
Luca looked at me, his protective instincts warring with the undeniable fire he saw in my eyes.
"You stay behind me," he ordered firmly, but there was deep respect in his voice.
"If anyone raises a rifle, you shoot to kill, Gianna."
"Understood," I replied, feeling an icy calm settle over my veins that could only have come from Moretti blood.
Luca kicked open the reinforced door leading to the upper gallery overlooking the grand staircase.
Below us, three mercenaries were advancing toward Dante's position, their rifle barrels sweeping the shadows.
Luca leaned over the gilded railing and fired three rapid, deafening shots.
The first two mercenaries dropped instantly, their armor useless against Luca's specialized hollow-point rounds.
The third mercenary spun around and raised his carbine toward our position on the second-floor balcony.
Before he could squeeze the trigger, my finger tightened on the nine-millimeter in my hands.
The gun kicked violently against my wrists, the deafening crack echoing through the high-vaulted ceiling.
The bullet struck the mercenary directly in the shoulder, spinning him violently off his feet onto the shattered marble below.
Dante looked up from behind a marble pillar, his face covered in soot and blood, his jaw dropping when he saw me standing beside his boss.
"Holy mother of God," Dante shouted over the din of battle.
"The waitress has better aim than my entire junior squad!"
"She's not a waitress, Dante!" Luca roared down through the drifting gunsmoke.
"She's Gianna Moretti, and she's taking back what belongs to our blood!"
A sudden explosion from the front courtyard signaled the arrival of roaring sirens in the distance.
Three armored tactical vans bearing the Moretti crest smashed through the remnants of the north gate.
Thirty heavily armed Moretti soldiers poured out into the courtyard, surrounding the remaining Sterling mercenaries from behind.
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Within ninety seconds, the remaining gunfire ceased, replaced by the shouts of surrendering mercenaries and the groan of dying engines.
The siege of the manor was over, but the war for our family's soul had only just begun.
