Chapter 6 - The Siege of Glass
The penthouse was designed to be a sanctuary, but glass made a terrible fortress.
"Take Luca and go to the panic room behind the master study," Dominic commanded, his voice dropping all warmth, replaced instantly by the cold, tactical precision of a man who had survived three assassination attempts.
Sophia didn't panic. She didn't cry. She hopped off the piano with her doll clutched in one hand and her mother's paintbrush in the other, her jaw set with a fierce, terrifying determination that looked uncannily like his own.
"I won't leave Luca," she said.
"You're not leaving him, you're protecting him," Dominic said, crouching down to look her directly in the eye. "Victor will take you both down the private elevator to the subterranean garage. My car is waiting. Do not come out until Victor tells you it's safe. Do you understand?"
She nodded tightly. "Be careful."
Dominic gave her a single, sharp nod, then turned and strode toward the armory closet hidden behind the mahogany bookcase in his study.
Within seconds, the minimalist elegance of the penthouse was replaced by the low, dull clack of steel sliding into place. Dominic stripped off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves to reveal forearms covered in pale scars from old knife wounds, and pulled a Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun from its wall rack. He checked the magazine, slammed it home, and racked the bolt with a sharp, metallic clack.
Down in the foyer, the heavy elevator doors chimed.
Victor was already stationed by the curved staircase with two of his most trusted men, their weapons drawn, lasers painting red dots across the polished concrete floor.
"They're coming up the service shaft," Victor reported, his eyes fixed on the door. "They bypassed the ground-floor guards. Someone on the inside gave them the access codes."
Dominic's eyes grew dark. "Who?"
"Salvatore," Victor spat the name out like poison. "One of his capos was seen meeting with Marconi's lieutenant yesterday afternoon. They thought you were getting soft because of the kids."
A cold, deadly smile touched the corner of Dominic's mouth. "Send Salvatore my regards. Permanently."
Crash!
The reinforced glass of the eastern terrace shattered inward in a cascade of diamond-bright shards. Two men in tactical black gear dropped through the opening, assault rifles raised, diving onto the carpet.
Victor and his men opened fire. The deafening roar of automatic gunfire tore through the quiet penthouse, shattering the minimalist art, chewing up the designer furniture, and turning the multimillion-dollar living room into a war zone.
Dominic didn't flinch. He stepped out from the hallway, his MP5 barking in short, controlled bursts. One of the intruders spun around and hit the floor, lifeless before he even stopped sliding.
"Two more coming through the elevator shaft!" one of Victor's guards shouted.
"Hold the line!" Dominic ordered, advancing through the smoke and flying glass.
The battle was short, brutal, and utterly ruthless. Within three minutes, the silence returned to the penthouse, broken only by the hiss of the shattered fire sprinkler system spraying water across the floor and the acrid smell of cordite hanging thick in the air.
Two of Marconi's men lay motionless near the balcony. The other two were zip-tied and bleeding on the concrete floor, pinned beneath Victor's boots.
Dominic walked slowly toward the captives, stepping over a ruined sculpture by a famous contemporary artist. He stood over the leader of the hit squad, looking down with eyes devoid of any human mercy.
"Who sent you?" Dominic asked softly.
The captive, a burly enforcer with a broken nose, spat blood onto the polished floor. "Marconi says... your time is up, Moretti. You brought strays into the house. You lost your edge."
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Dominic raised his gun, resting the cold steel barrel right against the man's forehead.
"Tell Marconi two things," Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "First, my house is not a stray house. Second... tell him I'm coming for dinner."
