Chapter 8
The storm reached its peak at midnight. Flash flood warnings echoed across Connecticut, and lightning illuminated the dark skies over Greenwich in jagged, violent strokes.
Inside the east wing suite, Emma sat on the edge of Nora’s bed, gently stroking her daughter’s blonde curls as the toddler slept peacefully, clutching her cream stuffed rabbit. Emma’s delicate features were tense, her soft blue eyes darting toward the window every time thunder shook the mansion.
Suddenly, the warm lights inside the suite flickered violently three times—and went completely dark.
Emma gasped, standing up instantly in the pitch-black room.
Outside in the corridor, a sudden, muffled heavy thud echoed, followed by the sharp, distinct sound of a suppressed gunshot.
Thwip. Thwip.
Emma’s heart leaped into her throat. Her maternal instincts took over instantly. She rushed to the bed, scooped Nora into her arms, and pulled the sleeping three-year-old tightly against her chest, retreating into the corner of the room behind a heavy oak wardrobe.
"Mommy?" Nora whimpered, rubbing her sleepy eyes, confused by the dark.
"Shh... baby, stay completely quiet," Emma whispered frantically, her voice trembling. "Mommy’s got you. Stay quiet."
The heavy double doors of the suite were suddenly kicked open with a violent bang.
Three men in black tactical gear and rain-soaked jackets burst into the room, their weapons raised, white tactical flashlights cutting through the darkness. They were Leo Moretti’s elite strike team.
"Find the kid!" the lead gunman barked in a harsh New York accent. "Grab the girl and get back to the SUV! Fast!"
The beam of a flashlight swept across the room, illuminating Emma cowering behind the wardrobe, holding Nora tightly.
"There she is!" the second gunman yelled, stepping forward with his weapon raised. "Grab the mother too!"
Before the gunman could take another step, a massive, dark shadow stepped out from the black corridor behind them.
It was Adrian Cole.
Adrian didn't need a tactical flashlight. He knew every inch of his estate in the dark. He wore his tailored black suit, his face an unreadable mask of pure, murderous rage. In his right hand, he held a sleek, heavy black handgun.
Without uttering a single word, Adrian executed two rapid, silent shots.
Thwip. Thwip.
The two rear gunmen dropped to the floor instantly, their weapons clattering against the hardwood.
The lead gunman whipped around in sheer terror, raising his assault rifle, but Adrian was already upon him. With terrifying, fluid speed, Adrian grabbed the barrel of the rifle with his bare, tattooed hand, twisting it violently out of the man's grip, and delivered a devastating, heavy blow with his fist straight to the killer's jaw.
The gunman crashed against the wall, collapsing unconscious onto the floor.
Silence returned to the room, broken only by the sound of the rain outside and Emma’s frantic, shallow breathing.
Adrian lowered his weapon, standing tall among the fallen intruders. The light from an emergency backup generator suddenly kicked on, bathing the room in a dim, red glow.
Adrian turned slowly toward the corner. His dark eyes softened as he looked at Emma and Nora.
"Are you hurt?" Adrian asked, his deep baritone smooth and steady, devoid of panic.
Emma shook her head frantically, tears of pure relief streaming down her fair, rosy cheeks. "No... no, we're okay. Oh God, Adrian... they came for her!"
Adrian stepped across the room, stepping over the fallen gunmen without a second glance. He reached out with his broad arms, gently taking Nora into his embrace. The toddler wrapped her small arms around her uncle's neck, hiding her face against his chest.
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"They came for my family," Adrian corrected quietly, his dark eyes burning with an absolute, terrifying resolve. "And now I am going to end the Moretti syndicate once and for all."
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