Chapter 16 - The road of glass and fire
"Out the back," Lorenzo commanded instantly, rising to his feet like an uncoiling spring. "Elena, wrap her tight. Keep her head against your chest and stay glued to my spine."
Elena scrambled to her feet, clutching her daughter under the thick layers of the tactical jacket. The baby let out a soft whimper, but Elena rocked her rhythmically as they ran down the back service stairs, her instincts taking over completely.
The sharp crump of a grenade launcher exploded near the front entrance, shaking the entire foundation of the mansion. Chunks of plaster fell from the ceiling like artificial snow.
They burst out through the rear kitchen into the pouring rain. Two of Lorenzo’s men were already waiting beside the remaining armored SUV, engines roaring, tires churning the mud into deep ruts.
"Move! Move!" Marcus yelled, firing short, controlled bursts toward the treeline where dark figures were advancing through the woods.
Lorenzo shoved Elena into the back seat, shielding her body with his own as a hail of bullets shattered the rear side window into a web of spider-cracked safety glass. A bullet grazed Lorenzo’s upper arm, ripping through his heavy wool coat. He didn't even wince. He pulled the heavy armored door shut, locked it, and hammered his fist against the driver’s partition.
"Drive! Take the access road toward Route 22! Don't stop for anything!"
The SUV lurched forward, fishtailing wildly before gripping the wet asphalt of the narrow service lane. Behind them, headlights flared through the trees—Moretti’s reinforcements were in hot pursuit.
Inside the cabin, Elena checked her baby frantically. "Did they hit her? Did anything hit her?"
"She's untouched, Elena," Lorenzo said, breathing heavily as he reached into his coat to press a dark handkerchief against his bleeding arm. "Look at her. She’s safe."
Elena looked down. The baby was wide awake, staring up at Lorenzo with curious, unblinking eyes, reaching out a tiny fist toward the shiny silver button on Lorenzo’s cuff.
Elena looked up at Lorenzo’s blood-soaked sleeve, her face draining of color. "Lorenzo... you’re shot."
"It’s a scratch," he dismissed coldly, though the strain around his mouth betrayed the pain.
Elena didn't listen. She shifted the baby into the crook of her left arm, grabbed the first-aid kit mounted beside the passenger seat, and ripped open a sterile gauze pad. "You saved my daughter. Sit still and let me stop the bleeding, or I swear I will tie this tourniquet so tight your arm falls off."
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Lorenzo looked at her, stunned, before a ghost of a smirk touched his lips. "You really are a menace, Elena."
"Shut up and hold still," she muttered, her hands working with clinical speed and gentle care, wrapping the wound tightly while the SUV tore through the midnight storm.
