Chapter 2 - The Devil's Debt
Lorenzo spun around on his heel, his gun instantly raised. Without a second of hesitation, he fired two deafening shots directly into the heavy oak door.
The wood splintered violently, raining sawdust onto the plush carpet, but the reinforced steel lock held firm.
"Who is out there?" Lorenzo barked, his eyes darting sharply between me, the shattered door, and the sleeping nurse.
"The man who murdered my baby," I whispered, my whole body shaking as I clutched Leo tighter to my chest.
The deafening gunshots finally jolted the night nurse awake. She gasped loudly, tumbling out of her velvet chair and crawling backward across the floor.
Except, she didn’t look confused. She wasn’t waking up from an innocent nap. Her eyes were wide with sheer, unfiltered terror as she looked at the door.
She stared at Lorenzo’s smoking gun, then at his murderous expression, and began to hyperventilate.
"I... I had to do it!" she sobbed hysterically, pressing her back against the far wall. "They said they would butcher my family if I didn't let him inside the gates!"
Lorenzo crossed the room in two massive strides. He grabbed the nurse by the collar of her scrubs, hauling her off the floor and pinning her against the floral wallpaper.
"You let an assassin into my home? You poisoned my only son?" he roared, the raw grief and fury in his voice making the room shake.
"Not poison! I swear on my life!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. "Just... mild sedatives in his evening bottles. Just enough to make him sleep through the night. To make him too weak to wake up and cry for food."
My stomach violently churned. The betrayal was sickening.
Marcus hadn't come here for me. Not initially. He had sold out to Lorenzo's deadliest rivals to pay off his gambling debts, taking a contract to eliminate the Rossi heir without leaving physical evidence. And now, I was trapped in a locked room with the target, and the devil himself.
Smoke from the gunshots lingered in the air, mixing with the sickeningly sweet scent of baby powder. Lorenzo dropped the nurse in disgust. She crumpled to the floor, weeping into her hands.
"Stay behind me," Lorenzo ordered, his voice dropping to a dangerously calm whisper.
He didn't look at me as a lowly maid anymore. He looked at me as the only shield protecting his child's fragile life.
He reached down and unclipped a heavy tactical radio from his belt.
"Security, breach the second-floor nursery. Now. We have a rat on the inside."
Static hissed loudly. Then, a voice crackled through the speaker.
It wasn't his loyal head of security.
It was Marcus.
"They're a little tied up right now, Rossi," Marcus laughed through the radio, the sound distorted and cruel. "Your guards were surprisingly easy to buy off."
My knees finally gave out. I sank into the wooden rocking chair, curling my body forward to completely shield Leo with my own torso. Leo stirred, his tiny, warm hands clutching the fabric of my open shirt.
"Whatever the Moretti family paid you, I will quintuple it. Open this door and walk away," Lorenzo said, his tone entirely devoid of fear, negotiating like a businessman.
"This isn't about money anymore, boss," Marcus replied, the static buzzing. "Well, mostly it is. But imagine my absolute surprise when I checked the security feeds and found out my runaway girlfriend was playing house in your mansion."
Lorenzo slowly turned his head to glance at me.
His dark, calculating eyes scanned my tear-stained face, my disheveled uniform, and the desperate way his son clung to me for dear life.
"Clara," Lorenzo said softly, speaking my name for the first time. "Is this the man?"
I couldn't speak. I could only nod, tears choking my throat.
Lorenzo turned back to the locked door. "You have exactly ten seconds to run, you miserable coward, before I tear this house apart down to the foundation and feed you to my dogs."
A heavy, metallic thud echoed against the door. Marcus was shoving heavy furniture against it, barricading us inside.
"Burn it down," Marcus's voice echoed faintly from the hallway, giving an order to someone else.
Seconds later, the unmistakable, acrid smell of gasoline began to seep under the gap in the door frame.
Panic seized my chest, squeezing my lungs.
"He's going to burn us alive," I choked out, looking at the thin wisp of smoke curling under the wood.
Lorenzo didn't panic. He walked over to the massive, floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the jagged cliffs at the back of the estate.
"The glass is bulletproof," he muttered, inspecting the heavy mahogany frame. "But the hinges are standard steel."
He took a step back, aimed his gun at the thick steel hinges of the window, and fired four rapid, deafening shots.
The noise in the enclosed space was unbearable. Leo began to scream—a weak, raspy, terrified sound that broke my heart all over again.
"Hold him tight. Do not let go," Lorenzo commanded.
He raised his heavy leather boot and kicked the shattered frame. Once. Twice.
On the third brutal kick, the entire window frame gave way, plummeting into the dark, churning waters of the private cove a hundred feet below.
The freezing night air immediately rushed into the warm nursery, biting at my exposed skin.
Lorenzo grabbed a thick, heavy velvet blanket from the crib and threw it over my shoulders, completely covering me and the baby.
"We are climbing out onto the stone ledge," he stated, leaving no room for argument.
"I can't!" I sobbed, looking at the sheer drop into the black ocean. "I'll slip. I'll drop your son. Please, I can't do it!"
Lorenzo stepped right into my space. His large, calloused hands cupped my face, forcing me to look away from the window and directly into his deep, fierce eyes.
"You are the only reason my son is breathing right now," he said, his voice a low, grounding rumble against the howling wind. "You didn't drop him when I put a loaded gun to your head. You will not drop him now. I have you."
He ripped open a hidden compartment in the wall closet and pulled out a black tactical harness. Within seconds, he had strapped me and Leo securely to his own broad chest, binding us together.
As bright orange flames began to lick under the nursery door, igniting the carpet, Lorenzo stepped out onto the narrow, freezing stone ledge.
May you like
The wind howled like a banshee. The icy ocean roared violently below us.
But pressed against the chest of the most dangerous man in the city, holding his child, I felt something I hadn't felt since my daughter died. I felt safe.
