Chapter 3 - The Shadow on 4th StreetBefore Kira could ask what Silvio meant, the glass of the front window exploded inward with a deafening CRASH!
BOOM!
A heavy iron crowbar smashed through the leaded glass, followed by three broad-shouldered men wearing dark hooded jackets and leather gloves pushing through the shattered frame.
Walter Pruitt shrieked, stumbling backward against a glass display case, dropping a tray of silver spoons.
"Where is the ledger, Pruitt?!" the lead intruder barked in a thick, harsh accent, drawing a heavy brass knuckle duster from his coat. "The Moretti audit is tomorrow! Hand over the secondary shipping receipts or we break your knees!"
Ethan immediately shoved Kira behind him, grabbing a heavy brass candlestick from the counter. "Get back!"
The second intruder sneered, lunging forward with a heavy iron pipe. "Get out of the way, kid!"
THWIP!
A sharp, suppressed crack echoed through the shop.
The lead intruder let out a high-pitched, agonized howl as a high-velocity 9mm round punched cleanly through his shoulder, knocking him sideways into a wooden bookshelf.
Silvio didn't even raise his voice. He stood beside the counter holding a sleek, suppressed sidearm, his posture perfectly calm, his silver hair unruffled.
Outside the shattered window, two black SUVs screeched to a halt along the curb, their heavy doors throwing open.
Four broad-shouldered men in dark tailored suits—Lorenzo Moretti’s private security detail—poured into the shop with military precision, tackling the remaining two intruders to the floorboards within five seconds.
CLICK. CLICK.
Heavy steel restraints locked around the intruders' wrists.
Kira stood frozen behind Ethan, her hands clutching his sweater, her chest heaving as her heart hammered violently against her ribs.
The rear doors of the primary black SUV opened.
Stepping out into the rain, holding a large black umbrella, wearing a charcoal wool overcoat over his dark suit, was Lorenzo Moretti.
He walked through the shattered shop doorway, his broad, towering frame filling the entry, his storm-gray eyes sweeping the damaged antiques, landing instantly on Kira standing behind the counter.
His face held an absolute, terrifying darkness that made the cold air in the shop drop below zero.
He walked straight up to the counter, ignoring the groaning men on the floor, stopping two feet from Kira.
"Are you hurt?" Lorenzo asked.
His baritone was low, deep, and laced with a quiet, lethal register that sent a shiver down Kira's spine.
Kira swallowed hard, looking up into his dark eyes, shaking her head weakly. "No... I'm... I'm not hurt. Ethan protected me."
Lorenzo looked at Ethan, giving the young engineer a slow, respectful nod of approval. "Good work, son."
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Then Lorenzo turned his gaze toward Walter Pruitt, who was trembling on his knees beside the broken display case.
"Walter," Lorenzo spoke softly. "Why are the Valenti syndicate’s street collectors asking you for secondary shipping receipts?"
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