Chapter 6 - Fire and Blood
The safe room was soundproof, but I could still feel the violent vibrations of the attack above us. Thuds and the distant, muffled popping of gunfire echoed through the structure. Leah was crying, terrified by the sudden chaos and the loud noises. I rocked her back and forth, humming the same lullaby I had sung to my empty stomach two years ago. "It's okay, baby. We are safe. He's protecting us," I whispered, unsure if I was reassuring her or myself.
Time lost all meaning in that cold steel box. It could have been minutes; it could have been hours. My mind raced with horrifying scenarios. What if Damian didn't survive? What if the Morettis breached the door? I looked around the room and found a heavy iron poker near a decorative fireplace. I gripped it tightly, my knuckles turning white. If they came for my daughter again, I would not be the helpless girl crying in a Zurich hospital. I would fight until my last breath.
Suddenly, the locking mechanism on the heavy door clicked, and the massive gears began to turn. I raised the iron poker, stepping protectively in front of Leah as the door swung open. Damian stood there. His white dress shirt was ruined, stained with dirt and blood, and his knuckles were bruised and split. He looked exhausted, brutal, and utterly terrifying. But when he saw me standing there, ready to fight for our child, his expression softened completely.
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He dropped his gun on a nearby table, and I instantly dropped the iron poker. Without a word, I ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck and burying my face in his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling me impossibly close. He smelled like smoke, gunpowder, and expensive cologne. "It's over," he whispered into my hair, his breathing heavy. "They tried to breach the perimeter. They failed."
I pulled back, looking at his bruised face. "Are you hurt?" I asked frantically. "Nothing that won't heal," he said, cupping my cheek with a rough, bloodstained hand. Leah ran out of the corner, wrapping her little arms around Damian's leg. "Dada," she cried. Damian froze. He looked down at the little girl clinging to him; it was the first time she had ever called him that. Tears welled in the ruthless mafia boss's eyes as he picked her up with his free arm, holding us both against him. "I have everything I need right here," he vowed, his voice thick with emotion. "And tomorrow, I end the Morettis permanently."
