Chapter 5 - Fire and Steel at Blackwood EstateThe sound of gunfire shattered the quiet sanctuary of the mansion within seconds.
Pop-pop-pop.
Suppressed automatic weapons fire echoed through the marble corridors, followed by the shattering of glass, heavy shouts, and the heavy thud of running boots.
I scrambled out of the armchair, my heart hammering against my ribs. I wanted to obey Dante, I wanted to hide under the desk like a helpless civilian, but the memory of the mountain road flashed through my mind. I couldn't just sit here and wait to die.
I rushed to the heavy oak door, pressing my ear against the wood.
Outside, the hallway sounded like a war zone.
“Clear the left flank!” Rocco’s voice roared over the din of combat. “Don’t let them reach the study!”
A deafening explosion rocked the west wing of the house, sending shockwaves through the floorboards and rattling the glass in the bookcases. A plume of black smoke drifted down the hallway, smelling of cordite and burning wool.
Suddenly, the door to the study burst open.
I gasped, stumbling backward and grabbing a heavy brass paperweight from the desk.
It wasn't Dante.
A tall man in tactical black gear, wearing a balaclava with only his cold, dead eyes visible, stepped into the room. A sleek submachine gun was raised in his hands, tracking straight toward me.
“Found the rat,” the intruder sneered, his voice muffled by the mask. “Don Salvatore sends his regards.”
My mind went blank. I raised the heavy brass paperweight, preparing to throw it, knowing it was useless against a trained killer with a gun.
Before I could move, a dark blur erupted from the shadows beside the bookshelf.
Dante.
He didn't use a gun. He slammed into the intruder like a freight train, driving the man’s back hard against the marble wall with a sickening crunch. The submachine gun clattered to the floor. Dante delivered a devastating elbow strike to the man’s temple, followed by a swift, brutal sweep of his leg that sent the assassin crashing to the floor unconscious.
Dante stood over him, breathing heavily, blood smeared across his white shirt collar. He looked up, his eyes locking onto mine with frantic urgency.
“I told you to stay in the room,” he growled, crossing the distance between us in two strides and grabbing my shoulders.
“I couldn't just wait—”
“Cara, listen to me,” Dante interrupted, his voice dropping all pretense of coldness, replaced by raw, desperate emotion. “The assault team is holding the foyer, but they’ve breached the garden entrance. We have to move. Now.”
He grabbed my hand, pulling me toward a concealed panel hidden behind a massive mahogany bookcase in the corner of the study. He punched a numerical code into a brass keypad embedded in the wood, and with a soft pneumatic hiss, the heavy shelves swung open to reveal a dark, stone-walled staircase leading down into the bowels of the estate.
“Where does this go?” I asked, stumbling after him into the cool, damp dark.
“To the old bootlegger tunnels beneath the cliffs,” Dante said, pulling a flashlight from his belt and flicking it on, casting a sharp beam down the stone steps. “They lead out to the boathouse on the lake. A car is waiting there.”
We descended into the underground labyrinth, the sounds of gunfire above us slowly fading into a muffled rumble. The air smelled of damp earth, old stone, and river water. Dante kept his grip on my hand tight and unbreakable, guiding me through the pitch-black tunnels with the familiarity of a man who had prepared for every nightmare his world could throw at him.
After ten minutes of brisk walking, the tunnel opened up into a wide concrete garage built directly into the base of the cliff. A sleek, matte-black Mercedes SUV sat idling with its lights off.
Dante yanked open the passenger door and shoved me gently inside.
“Wait here,” he said, his hand lingering on the door frame.
“Where are you going?” I cried, grabbing his jacket sleeve. “You’re not going back up there?”
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“Rocco and the boys are still holding the house,” Dante said softly, his eyes searching my face in the dim dashboard light. “I started this war by refusing to die on that mountain road. I have to finish it tonight.”
Before I could protest, he closed the door, locked it from the outside, and vanished back into the dark stone tunnel.
