Chapter 10 - The Ambush at Lincoln Park
The autumn afternoon sunlight filtered warmly through the tall elm trees lining Lincoln Park, casting dappled shadows across the brick facade of Claire and Natalie’s new brownstone.
Sal Ruso sat in the front passenger seat of a black SUV parked fifty feet down the street, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror with practiced vigilance. Two other security operatives were stationed in a second vehicle around the corner.
Inside the house, Claire was upstairs organizing Natalie’s new bedroom closet, humming softly to herself as she folded pastel-colored sweaters.
Natalie sat on the living room rug, happily assembling a complex Lego castle Levi had brought her the previous evening.
Suddenly, the ambient street noise shifted.
Sal’s instincts flared. He reached for his comm-link. "Team two, report—"
Before the transmission could clear, a nondescript gray van screeched around the corner, cutting off the secondary security vehicle and pinning it against the curb. Four men in tactical black gear spilled out of the side doors, armed with suppressed submachine guns.
"Ambush! Front door!" Sal roared into his radio, kicking open his door and drawing his Sig Sauer pistol in one fluid motion.
Gunfire cracked—sharp, suppressed, deadly. Glass shattered along the brownstone's ground-floor windows.
Inside the house, Natalie froze at the sound of breaking glass. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She remembered that sound. It was the sound of the world breaking apart, the sound that had followed her through cold alleys and ruined apartments.
Stay calm, a voice echoed in her head—her mother’s voice, and beneath it, Levi’s steady, unshakable command. Remember everything.
Heavy boots pounded against the front porch steps. The heavy oak front door splintered as a crowbar forced the lock, swinging it wide open.
A masked operative stepped into the foyer, his weapon raised, scanning the hallway.
Natalie didn't scream. She rolled sideways behind the heavy mahogany sofa, pulling a decorative throw pillow over herself. She watched through the narrow gap between the sofa legs as the intruder swept his weapon toward the stairs.
"Clear the ground floor!" a gruff voice barked from the porch.
Footsteps approached the living room.
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From outside, the thunderous roar of a high-performance engine shattered the quiet. A matte-black armored sedan tore down the street, jumping the curb and slamming directly into the gray syndicate van with bone-crunching force.
The front door blew inward off its hinges as Levi Marconi stepped through the threshold, his eyes burning with absolute, terrifying fury.
