Chapter 5 - Fire on the CliffsideThe gunfire started at 1:15 AM.
It didn't sound like the cinematic explosions in movies; it sounded sharp, heavy, and terrifyingly close—muffled thuds of suppressed weapons echoing against the stone walls of the East Suite balcony.
I couldn't just sit there.
Ignoring Salvatore’s explicit command, I bolted across the bedroom toward the private study annex. The secure terminal glowed green in the darkness. My fingers flew across the keyboard, bypassing firewalls and intercepting the local encrypted radio frequencies used by the mercenaries outside.
Got them.
“Alpha Team to Command, we’ve breached the terrace doors,” a harsh voice hissed through the audio feed on my screen. “Target is secured inside the East Suite. Moving in to extract or terminate per Vance’s direct orders.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. They were coming right for my room.
I grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from the mahogany desk just as the balcony glass doors shattered inward with a deafening crash.
Shards of glass rained across the Persian rug. A massive man dressed in black tactical gear stepped through the broken frame, holding an assault rifle equipped with a thermal scope. He swept the room, his eyes instantly locking onto mine through the shadows.
“Found her,” he barked into his shoulder mic.
I didn't hesitate. I hurled the heavy brass candlestick straight at his face.
It struck him squarely in the chest, throwing off his aim just as a deafening roar erupted from the doorway behind me.
Bang. Bang.
Two flashes of light cut through the darkness. The mercenary didn't even have time to raise his weapon; he dropped heavily to the floor, motionless.
I spun around.
Salvatore stood in the doorway, his chest heaving slightly, the smoking pistol still gripped in his right hand. A shallow, bleeding graze cut across his left shoulder, staining his white shirt crimson, but he didn't seem to notice the pain.
His dark eyes scanned the room, instantly landing on me unharmed.
In three long strides, he crossed the room, grabbed me by the shoulders, and pulled me violently against his chest, burying his face in my hair.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, his voice shaking with a raw, unfiltered panic I had never heard from him before.
“I’m fine,” I gasped, wrapping my arms around his waist, feeling the solid, living warmth of him against me. “I intercepted their comms—they’re Vanguard’s black-ops team. Vance sent them to finish what started in the harbor.”
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Salvatore slowly pulled back, cupping my face in his large, warm hands. His dark eyes burned with an intensity that stripped away every remaining barrier between us.
“That’s it,” Salvatore whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Game over for Julian Vance.”
