Chapter 5 - The War of the FamiliesFor three days, I stayed inside the Russo fortress.
I wasn't mistreated. I was catered to like royalty. Chef-prepared meals were delivered to my suite, expensive clothes were tailored to my exact measurements, and every comfort was provided. But I was a prisoner, guarded by armed men twenty-four hours a day.
Christian visited me every evening. He didn't force himself on me; he sat by the roaring fireplace, drinking scotch, discussing art, economics, and history. Beneath the lethal reputation of a mafia boss sat an extraordinarily intelligent, complex man who listened to every word I said with genuine respect.
And against my better judgment, the icy terror I felt toward Christian Russo began to thaw, replaced by a dangerous, magnetic pull that terrified me far more than his guns ever could.
On the fourth night, the peaceful isolation of the estate was shattered.
It was 1:00 a.m. when the sirens began to wail across the grounds. Red emergency lights flashed through the windows of my suite, and the sound of heavy automatic gunfire erupted from the front gates.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Panic seized my chest. I scrambled off the bed, backing away toward the bathroom as heavy footsteps sprinted down the hallway outside my door.
The heavy mahogany door swung open. Christian stepped inside, holding a black assault rifle, his crisp white shirt stained with fresh blood across his shoulder.
"Christian!" I gasped, running toward him.
"Stay behind me!" he commanded, pulling me into the hallway where Marco and four armed guards were forming a protective perimeter around us. "The Moretti crew breached the perimeter gates! They know you're here!"
"They know about the ledger?!" I shouted over the deafening explosions echoing from the courtyard below.
"Richard Miller sold your location to them two hours ago!" Christian roared, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the private subterranean elevator at the end of the hall. "They don't want the ledger, Clara! They want to execute you before you can testify!"
Before we reached the elevator, the floor-to-ceiling glass windows at the end of the corridor shattered in a shower of deadly shards.
Three armed men dressed in tactical gear vaulted through the broken frame, their weapons raised, opening fire directly onto our corridor.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Marco threw himself in front of Christian, taking a hit to his shoulder, while Christian shoved me hard into an alcove behind a stone pillar, using his broad body as an iron shield to cover me completely.
I buried my face in his chest, clutching his shirt as the world around us exploded into sheer, chaotic violence.
Christian fired back with deadly, terrifying precision. Three clean, calculated bursts of gunfire. Three heavy bodies hit the marble floor, silent and motionless.
Christian turned around, his breathing heavy, blood running down his jawline from a flying glass cut on his cheek. He looked down at me, his slate-gray eyes burning with a fierce, absolute protection.
"Are you hit?" he demanded, his hands framing my face, searching every inch of my body for blood.
"I'm... I'm okay," I sobbed, my hands trembling as I reached up to wipe the blood from his jaw. "Christian, your face—"
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"It's nothing," he growled. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me into the private elevator, punching in a secure six-digit override code.
The heavy steel doors slid shut, sealing out the gunshots and screams of the battle above, descending rapidly into the subterranean vault deep beneath the lake.
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