Chapter 16
Vincent walked briskly through the grand double doors into the main wing, his suit jacket marked with dust, his gun still held low at his side. His immediate focus was not on the battle outside, but on the small sanctuary wing where he had instructed Clara to stay.
He pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the library. Clara was crouched behind the massive oak reading desk, her arms wrapped around Ellie, shielding the child’s body entirely with her own. A deep graze from a stray glass shard ran along Clara’s forearm, dripping crimson onto her simple dress, but she had not made a single sound during the entire engagement.
"Clara," Vincent said, rushing over to kneel beside them. He immediately reached out, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he checked Ellie for injuries before turning his attention to Clara’s bleeding arm. "You're hurt."
"I'm fine," Clara whispered, her teeth chattering slightly from adrenaline, though her eyes were fierce with maternal protectiveness. "Ellie isn't touched. I made sure she didn't see anything."
Vincent looked at the blood staining Clara’s arm, then at her pale, determined face. Something shifted deep inside his chest—a long-frozen part of his soul warming in the presence of her quiet, selfless bravery. He pulled a clean silk handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wrapped it around her wound.
"You defended her like a mother wolf," Vincent murmured softly, his thumb gently wiping a smudge of dust from her cheek. "You are a remarkable woman, Clara Romano."
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Clara looked up into his intense dark eyes, her breath catching in her throat. For the first time in two years, the suffocating terror that had defined her life seemed to melt away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of absolute safety.
"Boss," Marco called out from the doorway, his voice tense. "The High Capos have arrived for the emergency council. And Dante is demanding to speak to you. He says the Cassano hit squad was sent to kill him, not you."
