Chapter 8
The two mercenaries reacted instantly, raising their weapons toward the mezzanine.
Alessandro didn't give them the chance.
*BOOM.*
The first heavy breaching slug struck the chest plate of the lead mercenary, the kinetic impact throwing him backward through the glass display case of antique armor.
The second guard fired a burst of suppressed rounds that chewed into the mahogany banister. Alessandro dropped flat, rolled to the edge of the balcony, and fired twice more into the darkness. The high-density buckshot shredded the floor around the second shooter, driving him into full retreat behind a marble pillar.
Carter Vance scrambled backward, clutching his laptop to his chest, sprinting toward the rear garden exit.
Alessandro vaulted over the mezzanine railing, landing cleanly on the Persian rug twelve feet below. He racked the slide of the shotgun with a deafening metallic clack.
The second mercenary lunged out from behind the pillar, combat knife drawn. Alessandro sidestepped, slammed the heavy steel receiver of the shotgun into the man's jaw, and swept his legs out from under him. The man hit the marble with a dull crack and lay motionless.
Alessandro didn't pause. He sprinted through the shattered glass doors of the conservatory and out into the torrential rain.
The estate's rear lawn was illuminated only by the flashes of lightning across the Chicago sky.
Carter Vance was fifty yards ahead, running toward the perimeter wall where a section of the wrought-iron fence had been cut open.
Alessandro raised his sidearm, took a steady breath, and fired a single round through the back of Vance’s right thigh.
Vance collapsed onto the wet turf with a strangled cry, his laptop sliding into the mud.
Alessandro walked up to him through the pouring rain, the water soaking through his black suit. He kicked the laptop away, then placed the sole of his Oxford shoe directly over Vance’s injured leg.
Vance screamed, clawing at the grass. "Romano! Wait! Don't—"
"Who sent you, Carter?" Alessandro asked, his voice barely louder than the falling rain. "Who told you about the child?"
Vance gasped for air, his face pale with agony. "You think... you think this was about your territory? You think I care about Chicago?"
Alessandro pressed down slightly.
"I'm talking!" Vance choked out. "The Zurich trust! Julian put five hundred million dollars into a blind trust before he vanished! The only way to liquidate it was with Julian's biometric key... or a direct blood descendant! An heir!"
"Who told you Emily was in my house?" Alessandro demanded. "She applied through a blind agency six months ago. Nobody knew her real identity."
Vance began to laugh, a wet, rattling sound. "You idiot. Who do you think owns that domestic staffing agency? Who do you think placed her here so she'd be trapped inside your walls when the time came?"
May you like
Alessandro’s eyes narrowed. "Speak."
"It wasn't an outsider, Alessandro," Vance gasped. "The call came from inside your own inner circle. Someone who sits at your table every Sunday."
