Chapter 5 - Blood and Gold“Down!” Alessandro shouted, shoving Clara and me behind the heavy oak display counter as a volley of suppressed gunfire chewed through the wooden door frame, sending splinters flying like shrapnel.
The quiet, lavender-scented air of my father’s shop was instantly fouled by the sharp, metallic stench of cordite and burning gunpowder.
Maso fired twice through the broken front window, the loud crack of his Sig Sauer shaking the small room. A muffled cry echoed from the street outside, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the concrete.
“They’re coming through the side alley!” Maso yelled over the din.
“I’ve got the alley,” Alessandro said smoothly, sliding across the polished floor with lethal grace and taking cover behind a heavy iron safe near the back workshop door.
I peeked over the edge of the oak counter. My heart pounded like a war drum, but my hands—the hands of a master restoration artist who spent hours delicately repairing fractured heirlooms—were remarkably steady. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a small, pressurized canister of acetylene torch gas we used for metal welding, along with a portable piezoelectric lighter.
“Clara,” I whispered, nudging the young woman crouching beside me. “Take this.”
She blinked, staring at the torch canister. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“If anyone in a black ski mask comes around that counter, you press this button and spray it right in their face. Then I’ll light it.” I gave her a grim smile. “Let’s see how much they like melting silk.”
Before Clara could reply, the heavy back door of the workshop splintered inward with a deafening crash. Two masked enforcers in tactical gear burst through the threshold, weapons raised.
Alessandro fired once—precision incarnate—dropping the first man instantly. But the second man swung his assault rifle toward Alessandro’s blind spot as the Don’s weapon clicked empty.
“Alessandro!” I screamed.
Without thinking, I leaped up from behind the counter, grabbed a heavy, cast-iron antique jeweler’s vise, and hurled it with every ounce of fury I possessed. It caught the enforcer squarely in the chest, knocking him off balance just long enough for Clara to hiss the acetylene canister, unleashing a freezing white fog of gas across his visor.
Alessandro didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, disarming the man with a brutal, bone-crunching sweep, slamming him headfirst into the concrete floor until he went limp.
Silence rushed back into the shop, broken only by the ragged breathing of the four of us standing amidst the wreckage of broken glass and shattered display cases.
Alessandro turned slowly, his grey eyes wide as he looked at me—not as a sheltered trophy wife, but as a warrior standing over a fallen enemy.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, rushing over and grabbing my arms, his hands shaking slightly as he inspected me for blood.
“I’m fine,” I panted, wiping a smudge of soot from my cheek. But before Alessandro could pull me into his arms, the front security gate shrieked as an industrial hydraulic jack was jammed beneath it, slowly lifting the heavy iron bars.
May you like
A familiar, smooth, mocking voice drifted in from the street outside.
“Well, well, well,” Ruggero Romano’s voice echoed through the ruined doorway. “Family reunion at last.”
