Chapter 8 - The locked drawer
Back at the Duca estate, the storm had worsened. Lightning flashed brilliantly through the tall windows. Elena was in Mia’s bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. She was reading a fairy tale to the little girl, keeping her voice soft and soothing, hiding her internal panic.
Suddenly, the power in the mansion cut out completely.
The room plunged into darkness. Mia gasped, clutching her plush bunny tight.
It’s okay, sweetie, Elena whispered quickly, turning on the flashlight on her phone. The storm just knocked out the lights.
But Elena knew it wasn't the storm. The backup generators should have kicked in instantly. Someone had manually cut the power lines.
Downstairs, the sound of heavy boots crashing through the front doors echoed up the grand staircase. Muffled gunshots followed. Lorenzo’s guards were being overwhelmed by a massive, coordinated hit squad.
Elena didn't hesitate. She scooped Mia up into her arms. She knew the standard safe rooms would be the first place the hitmen checked. She ran out into the dark hallway, her black maid uniform blending into the shadows.
She ran toward the master wing. Lorenzo’s bedroom was essentially a fortress, heavily armored and equipped with hidden compartments. She burst through the white-and-gold doors, locking the heavy deadbolts behind her.
Mommy, I’m scared, Mia cried softly, burying her face in Elena’s neck.
I know, baby. I know. But Mommy is going to keep you safe, Elena promised fiercely.
She set Mia down inside the massive walk-in closet, hiding her behind a row of expensive suits. Stay right here. Do not make a sound.
Elena ran to Lorenzo’s nightstand. She knew he kept a weapon in the house. She pulled the drawer open. It was locked. She frantically searched the desk, grabbing a heavy metal letter opener. She wedged it into the drawer lock, prying it with all her strength until the wood splintered and gave way.
Inside was a heavy, loaded handgun.
Elena had never fired a gun in her life, but the maternal instinct pulsing through her veins erased all fear. She gripped the cold metal, stepping out into the center of the dark bedroom, aiming at the locked double doors.
Heavy footsteps stopped outside. The brass handles jiggled.
Open the door, bitch! a rough voice yelled from the hallway. We know you’re in there!
Elena didn't answer. She braced her feet, her hands shaking, but her aim steady.
The heavy doors groaned as a massive breaching ram slammed into them. The wood splintered. Another hit, and the doors blew violently inward, crashing against the walls.
Three Moretti hitmen stepped into the room, their flashlights cutting through the dark. They saw the maid standing in her apron, holding a gun.
Drop it, the lead hitman laughed, raising his automatic rifle. You don't know how to use that.
Elena didn't blink. She squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space. The bullet struck the lead hitman perfectly in the shoulder, spinning him backward into the hallway.
The other two men swore, raising their weapons to fire.
Before they could pull the trigger, the shadows behind them exploded into violence.
Lorenzo had arrived.
He didn't use a gun. He was a force of pure, brutal nature. He grabbed the second hitman from behind, snapping his neck with a sickening crunch, and used the falling body as a shield while he drove a combat knife into the chest of the third man. It was over in three seconds of absolute, terrifying carnage.
Lorenzo stepped into the bedroom, his chest heaving, his suit ruined with rain and blood. He looked like a demon, but when his eyes found Elena standing there, shaking but unharmed, the demon vanished.
He rushed to her, taking the gun from her trembling hands and tossing it aside. He pulled her into a desperate, crushing embrace.
I’m here, Lorenzo breathed, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips in a frantic frenzy of relief. I’ve got you. You’re safe.
Where is Mia? he asked, looking around wildly.
Daddy!
May you like
Mia ran out of the closet, entirely unharmed, holding her bunny. Lorenzo dropped to his knees, catching his daughter and wrapping his massive arms around both the women who held his entire heart.
The war is over, Lorenzo whispered, burying his face in Elena’s shoulder. Tomorrow, we take everything back.
