Chapter 5 - The Ambush
"Grab the girl! Fast!" one of the men barked in a thick heavy accent, raising a silenced pistol toward me.
Before I could even swing the heavy bronze lamp, a shadow burst into the hotel corridor behind them. A loud gun blast echoed down the hallway, accompanied by the violent shattering of wood.
"Get your hands off my wife!"
Vincent tore into the room like a silver-eyed demon possessed by fury. He grabbed the nearest intruder by the tactical vest, slamming him violently against the concrete wall before tearing the weapon from his grip. A quick, practiced strike sent the second attacker crashing to the floor.
The third intruder fired two shots into the darkness. A sharp gasp escaped Vincent’s lips as one bullet grazed his shoulder, but he didn't even slow down. He closed the distance, disarming the man with lethal efficiency and dropping him with a brutal kick to the chest.
Silence descended back over the ruined suite, save for the sound of Vincent’s heavy, ragged breathing.
The emergency lights clicked on, casting an eerie red glow over the room. Vincent stood over the unconscious attackers, his tuxedo shirt torn, blood seeping through the expensive black fabric at his shoulder.
He turned around slowly, his eyes wild as he searched the room. "Claire! Are you hit? Where is she? Where is Emily?"
I stepped out from behind the divider, holding the lamp, shaking violently from the rush of adrenaline. "We're okay. We're fine."
Emily crept out from the bathroom, tears brimming in her large gray eyes. She looked at the blood on Vincent’s shirt, then up at his face.
Vincent dropped his weapon immediately, kicking it away as if it burned his hand. He dropped down to his knees on the carpet, trying to make himself look smaller, non-threatening, despite his broad, dangerous frame.
"It's okay, little one," Vincent whispered, his voice trembling as he looked at her. "Nobody is going to hurt you. I promise you... nobody will ever hurt you while I am breathing."
Emily looked at me, then looked back at him. "Are you injured, sir?"
Vincent let out a wet, choked laugh, tears threatening to spill over his lashes. "Just a scratch, sweetheart. Just a scratch."
Marco and four armed Moretti guards rushed into the suite seconds later, weapons drawn, securing the perimeter.
"Boss! The Donati family sent a hit squad," Marco reported quickly. "We have the perimeter secured, but the street isn't safe. They know she’s here."
Vincent stood up, wiping the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. He looked at me, his gaze fierce and protective.
"You hate me, Claire. You have every right to hate me for the rest of your life," Vincent said softly. "But right now, your daughter is in danger because of my name. Let me protect you both. Come to the estate. It's a fortress. Once the threat is gone, if you want to leave and never see me again... I will let you go."
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I looked at Emily, then at the unconscious men on the floor. I knew the mafia world. I knew that once blood was in the water, nowhere in a public hotel was safe.
"Fine," I said, my voice resolute. "We go to the estate. But understand this, Vincent: you are a bodyguard tonight. Nothing more."
