Chapter 7 - The Trap is Sprung
The wood splintered with a deafening crash.
Two masked men in tactical gear burst through the shattered doorway, automatic weapons raised. They didn't hesitate; they swung their barrels toward the corner where Lucia and I sat.
They never got the chance to fire.
Dominic moved with terrifying speed. He pivoted, raised the shotgun, and fired twice. The concussive blasts echoed through the expansive room like thunder. Both intruders flew backward, sprawling lifelessly onto the Persian rug.
More shouting echoed from the hallway. Footsteps thundered toward the study.
"Alina, take Lucia into the panic room behind the bookcase," Dominic ordered, his voice brooking no argument. "Lock the steel bolt from the inside. Do not open it until I knock twice."
"No! Come with us!" I cried.
"Go!" he shouted, shoving us toward the open panel before stepping out into the hallway to meet the incoming wave of assassins.
I dragged Lucia into the dark, narrow confines of the steel-reinforced bunker, pulling the heavy door shut behind us. The automatic locking mechanism clicked into place with a sickeningly definitive sound. Through the small, bulletproof observation slit, I watched the nightmare unfold in the hallway.
Dominic stood alone in the corridor, a formidable silhouette against the amber emergency lights. He moved like a ghost, utilizing the architectural pillars for cover, picking off the Moretti hitmen one by one with cold, surgical efficiency.
Suddenly, a massive figure clad in body armor rounded the corner—Salvatore Moretti himself, the ruthless underboss of the syndicate. Salvatore held a heavy assault rifle, aiming directly at Dominic’s chest.
"It ends tonight, Ferrero!" Salvatore roared, squeezing the trigger.
A burst of gunfire tore through the air. Dominic grunted, stumbling backward as a round caught him in the shoulder. Blood bloomed instantly across his charcoal suit jacket. But before Salvatore could fire a second, fatal burst, Dominic planted his feet, raised his pistol with his good arm, and fired a single, perfect shot straight through Salvatore’s visor.
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The underboss dropped his weapon, crashing hard onto the marble floor.
Silence descended upon the hallway once more, broken only by the crackle of distant flames and the heavy, ragged breathing of the wounded mafia boss.
