Chapter 5 - The Siege of the West Wing
The reinforced oak door of the master suite splintered inward with a deafening crash as a heavy explosive charge detonated against the exterior lock.
Smoke and splintered wood filled the hallway as two masked mercenaries in tactical gear surged into the room, their assault rifles raised and scanning for targets.
They didn’t even have time to acquire a visual.
From the shadows near the fireplace, Matteo stepped out with brutal efficiency, firing two silent shots from a suppressed weapon that dropped both intruders instantly before they hit the carpet.
“Clear!” Matteo shouted over the wailing alarms, reloading his magazine in a fluid motion.
Luca emerged from behind the steel partition, his pistol gripped firmly in both hands.
He looked down at the fallen mercenaries, noting the unmarked black tactical uniforms and the specialized encrypted comms clipped to their belts.
“Professional corporate hit squad,” Luca analyzed coldly.
“Marco didn’t hire street thugs; he hired international contractors to wipe out everyone in this house and make it look like a tragic terrorist attack.”
“Boss, the stairwell is compromised,” Matteo reported, rushing over to check the digital security monitors on the wall.
“A second team is breaching the ground floor atrium and heading straight up the service elevator.”
“They’re coming for you, and they know the panic room is locked.”
Luca turned his dark, piercing gaze toward Claire, who was calmly bandaging a minor scratch on Matteo’s arm with gauze from her medical kit amidst the crossfire.
Her composure in the face of literal war left even the veteran security chief stunned.
“Claire,” Luca said, stepping closer to her.
“You need to get down to the subterranean wine cellar.”
“It has a reinforced concrete bunker with an independent air supply and a satellite uplink.”
“I am not leaving you here to fight an army by yourself,” Claire retorted instantly, finishing the knot on Matteo’s bandage with a firm pull.
“If I stay, I can monitor your vital signs and ensure the antidote I administered earlier doesn't react poorly to your adrenaline spike.”
“If you die from a stray bullet, my diagnosis goes down with you.”
Luca stared at her in utter disbelief.
No one—not his lieutenants, not his closest allies, and certainly none of the previous thirteen nurses—had ever talked back to him while armed mercenaries were actively storming the building.
A low chuckle escaped his lips, dark and dangerously amused.
“Stubborn woman,” Luca muttered, shaking his head.
“Fine.”
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“You stay right behind me.”
“Matteo, lead the way to the armory corridor.”
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