Chapter 6 - The Siege on 44th Street
The sound of heavy boots echoed from the stairwell outside.
Elena gasped, immediately pulling away from me and lunging toward the couch to scoop Sophie into her arms.
“Matteo, what is that?”
“Sal, take the front door,” I ordered, my voice stripping away every trace of emotion, replaced instantly by the cold calculation of survival.
“Marco, get behind the counter. Keep your head down.”
I pulled my personal firearm from the holster beneath my jacket.
A customized SIG Sauer.
Smooth.
Familiar.
Sophie didn't scream.
That broke my heart more than if she had wailed.
She buried her face into the crook of Elena’s neck and jammed her eyes shut, clamping her hands over her ears as if she had practiced this drill before.
The doorknob rattled violently.
Then came the heavy thud of a boot against the wood.
The flimsy lock gave way on the second kick.
The door burst inward, splintering the frame.
Two men in dark tactical jackets entered, their weapons raised.
They never had a chance to acquire their targets.
Sal fired twice.
Two suppressed pops echoed through the hallway.
The first man collapsed forward onto the linoleum, clutching his knee, while the second scrambled backward into the hall, shouting into a radio.
“Matteo Caruso!”
The voice came from the stairwell.
Nico.
High-pitched, confident, dripping with the arrogance of a man who had never faced real consequences in his entire pampered life.
“You should have stayed in your glass tower, cousin!” Nico shouted, his voice bouncing off the concrete stairs.
“You brought the girl into this. Now we have to clean up the whole damn mess!”
“Nico,” I called back, stepping toward the shattered doorway, keeping myself between the hall and the corner where Elena shielded our daughter.
“You touch one hair on their heads, and I will dismantle your life piece by piece. You won't see a jail cell. You won't see the light of day.”
A cold laugh drifted up the stairwell.
“You think this is about money, Matteo? It was never about the shares! Ask your father’s ghost! Ask Beatrice!”
Another shot blew through the hallway window, showering glass across the corridor.
“The fire escape!” Marco hissed from behind the counter.
“There’s an alley behind the building. My driver has an armored Mercedes parked by the loading bay.”
“Sal, lead them down,” I commanded without looking back.
“Boss, I’m not leaving you,” Sal growled, his weapon trained on the doorway.
“That is not a request, Salvatore. Take my wife. Take my daughter. Get them into the armored car. If you let them die, don't bother coming back for me.”
Sal looked at me for a fraction of a second.
The loyalty of twelve years passed between us in that single glance.
“Yes, boss.”
Sal turned to Elena.
“Miss Voss. With me. Now.”
Elena looked at me, her face pale, her lips trembling.
“Matteo, don't do this. Don't leave us again.”
I reached out with my left hand and touched Sophie’s small cheek.
Her skin was hot with fever.
Her gray eyes opened, looking into mine with complete clarity.
“I’m not leaving you, sweetheart,” I told her softly.
“Daddy’s just going to take out the trash.”
May you like
I pulled the door closed behind them as Sal led them toward the kitchen window leading to the iron fire escape.
Then I stepped into the hallway alone.
