Chapter 4 - The Breach at the Gate
The sound of automatic gunfire echoed faintly from the far north perimeter of the estate, rattling the high glass windows of the third floor.
Anna stood up from the sofa instantly, pulling Lily behind her while holding baby Matteo securely against her chest.
Rocco stood up smoothly, drawing a silver-framed sidearm from his shoulder holster. His expression was devoid of any fear, replaced by a cold, lethal determination that had made him the most feared Don in the Midwest.
"Stay in this wing, Anna," Rocco commanded, stepping toward the heavy oak doors. "The inner doors are reinforced steel. Nobody gets through without my personal key."
"Rocco, wait!" Anna called out, using his first name for the first time. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small electronic keycard she had found near the pantry floor earlier that evening. "Take this. This was dropped by the man near the service stairs."
Rocco took the keycard, noticing a tiny silver symbol engraved on the corner—a crest belonging to the Chicago Syndicate Council.
"Thank you," Rocco said, his blue eyes holding hers for a brief, powerful second. "Lock the door behind me."
Rocco stepped out into the carpeted corridor, engaging the heavy electronic deadbolts with a sharp click.
He moved down the grand marble staircase like a shadow, his polished black shoes silent against the stone. Below in the main foyer, six of his most loyal enforcers were taking defensive positions behind the marble pillars, weapons raised toward the shattered glass front doors.
Outside in the courtyard, two black transport vans had smashed through the iron gates, their high beams blinding the security cameras. A dozen armed mercenaries in tactical gear were advancing across the manicured lawn.
Standing near the lead transport van was Marcus Vance, the fifty-two-year-old Detroit director, dressed in a heavy dark overcoat, holding a secure satellite detonator.
Rocco stepped out onto the grand stone terrace, his broad frame framed by the moonlight, his dark wavy hair swept back by the cold night wind.
"Marcus!" Rocco’s voice boomed across the courtyard like thunder, cutting through the sound of rain and engines. "You came a long way from Detroit just to die on my lawn."
Marcus Vance let out a harsh, arrogant laugh. "It’s over, Rocco! Caleb released our team from the holding cell five minutes ago! We have your security codes, we have your perimeter maps, and by morning, the Chicago council will confirm me as the new Don!"
Rocco raised his weapon, his voice smooth as silk and cold as ice. "You forgot one thing, Marcus."
"Oh? And what’s that?" Marcus sneered.
"You left your authorization code on the nursery memo," Rocco declared.
May you like
Rocco pressed the button on the silver keycard Anna had given him.
A high-pitched electronic pulse echoed across the courtyard as the estate's heavy automated security turrets—hidden within the stone parapets—swung into position, locking their red targeting lasers directly onto Marcus Vance's vehicles.
