Chapter 5 - Midnight on the EstateMidnight descended upon Lake Forest like a shroud of black velvet. The moon was entirely obscured by heavy, ash-colored storm clouds, plunging the sprawling gardens and marble fountains into deep, impenetrable shadows.
Inside the mansion, every light was extinguished except for the amber glow of the tactical monitors in the command suite.
I stood beside Enzo near the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master parlor, looking out over the manicured lawns. The white roses we had planted together on our second anniversary looked ghostly and pale in the darkness.
Then, the first motion sensors triggered.
On the monitors near the door, thermal imaging showed half a dozen dark figures scaling the perimeter iron gates, moving with military precision across the eastern garden.
"They’re here," Lucas announced quietly, his finger hovering over the automated security lockdown switches.
Enzo didn't flinch. He adjusted the suppressor on his custom Sig Sauer pistol with mechanical calm, his movements fluid and deadly. He turned to me, his dark eyes searching my face one last time in the dim light.
"Stay behind the reinforced steel partition in the master bath," he ordered, his voice brooking no argument. "Do not open it for anyone except me or Lucas. No matter what you hear."
"Enzo—"
"Promise me, Ava."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. "Be careful."
He pressed a fierce, lingering kiss to my forehead, then turned and vanished into the hallway, joining Lucas and his men as the first shattering crash of glass echoed from the ground floor.
The next twenty minutes were a nightmare composed of sound and shadow.
Muffled gunshots echoed up through the floorboards. The deep, heavy thud of boots running across the mahogany staircase made my heart leap into my throat. I stood locked inside the reinforced bathroom, listening to the war being fought for our home—and for our future.
Suddenly, a heavy thud slammed against the heavy oak bedroom door outside my hiding place.
"Ava," a voice called out.
It wasn't Enzo. It wasn't Lucas.
It was a smooth, mocking voice that sent ice water straight through my veins.
"Open up, Mrs. DeLuca," Marco Russo purred from the other side of the heavy wood, accompanied by the chilling sound of a knife scraping against the doorframe. "Your husband is currently indisposed downstairs. I thought we could finish our conversation from the party."
My hands shook, but deep inside my chest, the fear dissolved into something much sharper: pure, unadulterated rage.
Marco thought he had won. He thought Enzo was dead or broken, and he had come to claim his prize.
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Instead of hiding behind the steel partition, I backed away slowly, my hand closing around the heavy brass candlestick resting on the marble vanity. I didn't wait for him to kick the door in.
I reached out, unlocked the deadbolt from the inside, and pulled the bedroom door wide open.
