Chapter 4 - The Siege of the EstateThe sudden loss of light was jarring. The green-shaded desk lamp flickered once and died, plunging the library into inky blackness save for the dying embers of the fireplace in the adjoining room.
Luca pulled back instantly, his body snapping from intimacy to lethal readiness in a fraction of a second. He grabbed my hand, yanking me behind his broad frame as he drew a heavy 9mm pistol from his shoulder holster with a practiced, metallic click.
"Stay behind me," he barked, his voice dropping into the razor-sharp command of a seasoned commander.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
A harsh, automated klaxon blared through the manor’s intercom system, followed by a computerized robotic voice:
“WARNING. EXTERIOR PERIMETER BREACHED. SECTOR FOUR COMPROMISED. INTRUDERS AT NORTH WING.”
"They're here," I whispered, my heart slamming wildly against my ribs.
"Marcus!" Luca shouted toward the hallway.
A moment later, Marcus burst into the study through the reinforced doors, carrying an assault rifle, his face grim and bloodied from a minor graze on his temple.
"Boss, we've been hit!" Marcus reported rapidly. "At least a dozen heavily armed men breached the north gates using thermal breaching charges. They cut the primary power grid and jammed local cell towers. It’s Moretti’s cleanup crew."
"How did they bypass the biometric grid so fast?" Luca demanded, his eyes flashing with lethal fury.
"We have a mole," Marcus said grimly. "One of the outer guards turned."
"Find him, kill him, and secure the panic room," Luca ordered without hesitation. He grabbed my arm, his grip ironclad. "Clara, we're moving."
"I can't run in these heels!" I cried out, stumbling as he dragged me toward the private staircase at the back of the library.
"Then I'll carry you," Luca growled. Without missing a beat, he scooped me up into his arms bridal-style, sprinting down the darkened corridor while keeping his weapon trained on every shadowy corner.
Gunfire erupted downstairs—sharp, deafening cracks of automatic rifles echoing through the stone halls. The distinctive thump-thump of incoming rounds slamming into exterior walls made the floor beneath us vibrate.
"Luca, put me down, you'll slow down!" I protested, burying my face against his shoulder as the smell of cordite and ozone drifted up the stairwell.
"Shut up and hold on to me!" he snapped, kicking open a reinforced steel door at the end of the second-floor hallway.
He threw me inside a windowless, concrete-reinforced panic room lined with communications gear, weapon caches, and emergency medical kits. He gently set me down behind a heavy steel workbench, then immediately turned back toward the open doorway.
"Where are you going?!" I screamed over the sound of approaching gunfire outside in the hall.
"To finish this," Luca said coldly. He pulled a spare submachine gun from a wall rack, checked the clip with a swift clack, and looked back at me one last time. "Lock this door from the inside the second I step out. Do not open it for anyone—do you hear me? Anyone except me."
"Luca, no! Don't go out there alone!" I reached out, grabbing his jacket sleeve, tears stinging my eyes.
He gently unpeeled my fingers from his sleeve, kissed my forehead with a desperate, lingering pressure, and whispered, "I love you, Clara. Stay alive for me."
Then he stepped out into the hallway, slamming the heavy steel door shut behind him.
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Click.
The automated deadbolts locked into place. I was alone in the dark.
