Chapter 9 - THE STAND AT THE MANSION
The bedroom filled with black smoke and flying splinters of wood.
Through the haze, three heavily armed men in black tactical gear stepped into the room, their assault rifles raised. Leading them was a tall, lean man with a scar running across his cheek—Marco Bellini.
“Search the room!” Marco shouted, his voice rough and laced with malice. “Find the girl! Vanessa said Luca loves the kid more than life itself! If we take her, Luca will hand over Chicago without firing a shot!”
I squeezed myself into the shadow between the heavy marble fireplace and the high-backed armchair, holding the heavy handgun Daniel had given me with both hands. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure they could hear it over the smoke detectors.
One of the gunmen kicked open the bathroom door, spraying it with bullets. “Empty!”
“Check the closets!” Marco ordered, walking directly toward the walk-in closet where Lily was hidden.
No. Not again.
I couldn't let them touch her. I couldn't let another Bellini destroy this family.
I stepped out from behind the fireplace, raised the heavy pistol, and fired.
BANG!
The recoil shocked my arms, but the bullet hit the gunman beside Marco directly in the shoulder. He dropped his rifle with a roar of pain.
“What the hell?!” Marco yelled, spinning around.
I fired again. BANG! The bullet shattered the mirror behind Marco’s head.
“It’s just a woman!” Marco spat, lunging across the room. He knocked the gun out of my hands with the barrel of his rifle and shoved me violently against the wall.
I hit the plaster hard, gasping for air as Marco grabbed me by the hair, dragging me into the center of the bedroom.
“Well, well,” Marco sneered, looking down at my pale face. “You must be the hero maid Vanessa warned us about. The one who ruined everything.”
He pressed the hot barrel of his assault rifle directly against my forehead.
“Where is the little girl?” Marco growled. “Tell me, or I’ll blow your brain across this silk carpet.”
I looked directly into his murderous eyes. I didn't cry. I didn't beg.
“Go to hell,” I spat.
Marco’s eyes flared with rage. “Die, then.”
His finger began to tighten around the trigger.
BOOM!
A single, high-caliber gunshot tore through the bedroom air.
Marco’s eyes went wide. A small red hole appeared in the center of his forehead. He dropped the rifle, collapsed onto his knees, and crashed face-first onto the floor, dead before he hit the ground.
Standing in the doorway, framed by the drifting black smoke, was Luca.
His black suit was covered in plaster dust and blood. In his hand was a massive, custom silver revolver, smoke still curling from the barrel. Behind him stood Daniel and a dozen Moretti soldiers, their weapons fully raised.
Luca dropped his gun to his side and sprinted across the room, lifting me into his arms and pulling me tight against his chest.
“Hannah!” Luca cried out, his voice cracking with pure terror. “God, Hannah… are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“I’m okay…” I sobbed, wrapping my arms around his neck, sinking into his warmth. “I’m okay… Lily is safe… she’s in the vault…”
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Luca closed his eyes, pressing a long, desperate kiss into my hair, his whole body shaking with relief.
“You did it again,” Luca whispered, his voice thick with overwhelming emotion. “You protected my family.”
