Chapter 17 - Two cradles in the fortress
Dawn broke over the Hudson River in shades of bruised purple and grey.
The convoy pulled through the iron gates of the Rossi compound in upstate New York, greeted by a full perimeter guard of thirty heavily armed men. The mansion was completely secure, a fortress impenetrable to whatever storm Julian Moretti was preparing to unleash.
Elena stepped out of the vehicle into the crisp morning air. She was exhausted, covered in mud, rain, and dried blood, but she held her daughter against her heart with the strength of a titan.
Lorenzo walked beside her, his arm bound in clean white bandages beneath a fresh black sweater. As they entered the grand foyer, Maria, the head housekeeper, rushed forward with tears in her eyes.
"Sir! Elena! Thank God you're back," Maria cried, clasping her hands together. "Master Leo has been crying for his bottle, but he refused the formula. He’s been waiting."
"Take us to the nursery," Lorenzo ordered quietly.
Upstairs, the nursery was warm and peaceful, smelling of baby powder and sweet milk. In his high-tech bassinet, baby Leo was squirming, his tiny fists kicking against his light blue swaddle, whimpering softly.
Elena walked over to the bassinet, Lorenzo standing right beside her shoulder.
She gently set her daughter down in the second bassinet that Lorenzo had ordered prepared while they were on the road. The two infants lay side by side under the soft morning light filtering through the sheer curtains.
Leo stopped whimpering. He turned his small head toward the new scent, his watery hazel eyes blinking toward the little girl beside him. The baby girl turned her face toward him, letting out a soft coo, her tiny hand brushing against the edge of Leo’s blanket.
Elena collapsed into the glider chair between the two cribs, burying her face in her hands as the final dam broke. She wept silently, her shoulders heaving with the overwhelming release of months of terror, grief, and agony.
Lorenzo stepped behind the chair. He laid his large, warm hands on her shoulders, applying a steady, grounding pressure that anchored her to the earth.
"They are safe, Elena," Lorenzo said, his voice softer than anyone in New York had ever heard it. "No one will ever harm them again. I give you my life on that."
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Elena looked up, reaching back to touch his hand where it rested on her shoulder. "What do we do now, Lorenzo? Moretti won't stop."
Lorenzo’s expression hardened into black granite. "Moretti made this personal the moment he ordered Cole to touch these children. We don't hide. We hunt."
