Chapter 4 - The Siege of Moretti Manor
The sound of automatic gunfire erupted from the floor below.
RAT-AT-TAT-TAT! BANG! BANG!
The heavy thud of boots, shattering glass, and screams echoed through the concrete structure of the mansion. I scrambled to the heavy steel door, slamming the manual lock into place, my heart hammering like a trapped bird inside my chest.
I ran back to the bed, sliding under the covers and pulling Lily into my arms. Lily stirred, whimpering softly as the roaring explosions shook the floorboards beneath us.
"Mommy?" she cried out, her small hands clutching my sweater. "Is the thunderstorm back?"
"Yes, baby," I lied, tears streaming down my face as I kissed her forehead, shielding her ears with my hands. "It’s just a thunderstorm. Mommy's right here. You're safe. We're safe."
Through the red emergency light of the suite, I watched the wall monitor. The security cameras were cutting out one by one as the intruders moved through the ground floor. They were professional mercenaries, dressed in unmarked black tactical gear, wielding submachine guns.
Dmitri Sokolov hadn't just sent a few hitmen. He had launched a full-scale military assault on the Moretti home.
BOOM!
A heavy explosion rocked the second floor. A grenade had detonated in the main foyer. The lights flickered violently.
I looked at the monitor. Through the smoke on the main staircase, I saw Alessandro.
He was a force of nature. Moving with terrifying precision, he fired his tactical handgun, dropping two mercenaries in rapid succession. Marco was beside him, laying down heavy suppressive fire with an assault rifle. They fought like demons, defending their home with brutal efficiency.
But there were too many intruders.
A third group of mercenaries breached the back terrace, flanking the security team. I watched on the monitor as Marco was hit in the leg, stumbling backward behind a marble pillar, blood pouring from his thigh.
"Marco!" I gasped.
Alessandro didn't retreat. He stood over his wounded chief of security, firing relentlessly, holding off five gunmen single-handedly. But his magazine clicked empty.
One of the black-clad mercenaries stepped out from the smoke, raising an automatic rifle, aiming directly at Alessandro's back.
"NO!" I screamed at the monitor, as if he could hear me.
Before the mercenary could pull the trigger, a loud, thunderous gunshot echoed from off-camera. The mercenary’s head snapped back, and he crumpled to the floor.
Stepping out from the darkness of the hallway behind the mercenary was an unexpected figure: Dr. Vance, the estate's private physician, holding a heavy revolver, his hands shaking but his aim true.
Alessandro didn't waste a second. He retrieved a fresh magazine from his belt, slammed it into his pistol, and finished off the remaining attackers on the staircase.
Within ten terrifying minutes, the gunfire began to die down. The loud pops were replaced by the crackle of security radios and the moans of wounded men.
I sat on the bed, gasping for breath, my body soaked in cold sweat, clutching Lily tight against my chest.
Minutes passed like centuries.
Then, heavy footsteps approached the master suite door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three distinct taps, followed by two quick ones. The code Alessandro had given me.
"Grace," Alessandro’s voice came through the thick steel door, heavy and exhausted. "It's over. Open the door."
My hands were shaking so hard I could barely turn the steel latch. I pulled the door open.
Alessandro stood in the doorway. His white dress shirt was torn, stained with gunpowder and dark blood. A deep graze crossed his cheekbone, bleeding down his neck. But he was standing tall. He held his weapon downward, his dark eyes scanning the room until they landed on me and Lily.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice rough.
"No... no, we're fine," I sobbed, collapsing against the doorframe. "You're bleeding, Alessandro!"
"It's not my blood," he said coldly, stepping into the room and shutting the heavy door behind him.
He walked over, dropping his empty pistol onto the nightstand. He looked down at Lily, who looked up at his bloody shirt with wide, innocent eyes.
"Mr. Moretti," Lily said softly, pointing at his face. "You got boo-boos."
Alessandro slowly dropped to his knees in front of my daughter. The man who had just executed a dozen mercenaries gently reached out a hand, touching Lily’s soft cheek with his calloused thumb.
"I’m okay, little one," Alessandro murmured, a rare, breathtakingly soft smile breaking through his hardened features. "The thunderstorm is gone."
He turned his gaze up to me. The raw intensity in his eyes made my breath catch in my throat.
"The Russians sent everything they had tonight, Grace," Alessandro said softly. "They wanted to destroy me. But all they did was guarantee their own extinction."
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"What are you going to do?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Tonight, I execute Dmitri Sokolov," Alessandro said, standing up, his tone cold and absolute. "And tomorrow, Grace... you and Lily are taking my name."
