Chapter 9 - The Breach
Matteo drew his sidearm before the second alarm chime finished sounding.
The high-resolution security monitors built into the library wall flickered to life, showing the northern treeline of the estate near the shoreline path.
Four dark figures dressed in civilian tactical gear had cut through the heavy iron chain-link fencing bordering the private beach.
"Rossi’s hit squad?" Luca asked coldly, racking the slide of his Kimber .45.
"No, Boss," Matteo answered, zooming in on the lead infiltrator's tactical vest.
"Those aren't street soldiers."
"Look at the discipline, the suppressors, the breaching tools."
"Those are black-market contract mercenaries."
"Someone paid a fortune to bypass our front gates and hit the estate from the water."
A sudden, agonizing realization hit me like a physical blow.
"Sophie and Eleanor," I cried out, panic seizing my lungs. "They're having tea on the veranda!"
Luca was already moving before the sentence left my mouth.
"Matteo, seal the lower levels and engage the shoreline security team," Luca ordered as he sprinted out into the grand hallway.
"Nobody gets within fifty yards of the main house!"
I ran right behind him, my heart hammering against my ribs with terrifying ferocity.
When we burst out onto the sunlit veranda overlooking the gardens, Eleanor was already standing, clutching her walking stick, shielding Sophie behind her own frail body.
Even without words, Eleanor’s protective maternal instincts were razor-sharp.
She had seen the distant movement in the trees and was slowly ushering Sophie toward the reinforced steel storm doors leading into the mansion's basement vault.
"Mama!" Sophie cried out in sign as soon as she saw me, her small hands trembling violently.
Down! I signed frantically, dropping to my knees and pulling both Sophie and Eleanor onto the marble tile.
A split second later, the sharp, suppressed thwip-thwip-thwip of automatic fire shattered the glass panels of the veranda above our heads.
Shards of heavy tempered glass rained down across the terrace like frozen daggers.
Luca leaned around a stone balustrade, firing three precise shots down into the treeline.
A muffled grunt followed by the heavy thud of a body falling into the thick underbrush signaled that one of the intruders had been neutralized.
"Into the panic shelter, Claire! Now!" Luca roared over the deafening echoes of gunfire returning from the trees.
I grabbed Sophie by the waist and supported Eleanor with my right shoulder, hauling them both across the shattered glass toward the heavy reinforced door of the vault.
Behind us, Moretti security guards poured out from the carriage house, their weapons roaring as they established a lethal perimeter around the veranda.
Just as I pushed Eleanor and Sophie through the threshold of the panic shelter, a tall figure in a black tactical mask rounded the corner of the garden wall, aiming a submachine gun straight at my chest.
I froze, completely exposed, my body serving as the only shield between the gunman and the open vault door where my child huddled.
The mercenary pulled the trigger, but before the bullet could leave the barrel, Luca threw himself in front of me with the force of an avalanche.
A sickening, hollow thud echoed across the terrace as a high-caliber round tore into Luca’s side.
Luca didn't even cry out.
He absorbed the horrific impact, raised his weapon with stone-cold precision, and fired twice through the center of the gunman’s tactical mask.
The mercenary collapsed instantly, crashing lifelessly across the stone steps.
Luca stumbled backward, his back hitting the steel frame of the vault door, a dark, crimson stain rapidly spreading across his gray cashmere sweater.
"Luca!" Eleanor screamed, a hoarse, ragged sound tearing past her damaged vocal cords for the first time in two years.
She collapsed beside him, her hands frantically pressing against his bleeding side, her eyes wild with a mother's absolute horror.
Luca looked up, his face pale and beaded with cold sweat, but his dark eyes remained steady and focused on mine.
"Get... get inside, Claire," he gasped, his fingers struggling to grip his gun. "Pull the emergency lever."
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"I'm not leaving you out here to bleed to death!" I yelled back, tears streaming down my face as I grabbed his heavy shoulders and pulled with every ounce of strength I had left.
With Matteo and two surviving guards providing covering fire, we hauled Luca’s bleeding frame across the threshold, and the six-inch solid steel vault door slammed shut with a deafening, final thud.
