Chapter 17
Midnight arrived with a deafening crack of thunder that seemed to split the sky directly over the estate. The heavy rain pounded against the roof, drowning out the ambient sounds of the night. Downstairs, the compound felt eerily empty; Dante had taken thirty of his best soldiers to the Red Hook raid, leaving only a skeletal security crew of eight men behind to guard the perimeter and the upper floor.
Maya sat in the second-floor nursery with Sophia. They had built a small fort out of cushions and blankets in the corner of the room, lit by the warm glow of a small nightlight. Sophia was sitting in Maya’s lap, listening intently as Maya read from an old fairy tale book.
Suddenly, the warm light in the hallway flickered violently, then died completely, plunging the estate into pitch blackness.
Maya froze. Her heart slammed against her ribs. "The power..." she whispered.
A second later, the backup generators hummed to life, casting a dim, red emergency glow through the corridor. Then came the sound that made Maya’s blood run completely cold—the sharp, unmistakable popping of silenced gunfire echoing from the front courtyard downstairs, followed by the muffled thuds of heavy bodies hitting the floor.
"Maya?" Sophia whimpered, her tiny hands clutching Maya’s shirt. "Is that the bad men?"
Lorenzo Moretti had anticipated the raid. He had left a skeleton crew at the refinery as bait and sent his elite mercenary squad directly to Dante’s home while the boss was away, aiming to slaughter everyone inside and claim Sophia once and for all.
The radio on the nightstand—left behind by Luca—crackled with frantic, terrifying shouting. "Breach! Perimeter breach at the west gate! They cut the main power lines! We have six... no, eight shooters inside the foyer—" A sharp gunshot cut the radio transmission off into static.
Maya didn't hesitate. Survival instinct, forged in years of hard work and protective devotion, took over completely. She grabbed Sophia, lifting her into her arms, and bolted out of the nursery into the dark, red-lit hallway.
Footsteps—heavy, tactical boots—were pounding up the grand marble staircase at the far end of the corridor.
"This way!" Maya whispered, turning on her heel and sprinting down the opposite end of the wing toward the rear service stairs that led to the kitchen.
As she reached the corner, a tall man in black tactical gear and a ballistic mask rounded the hallway. He held a silenced submachine gun. The moment he spotted Maya carrying the child, he raised his weapon.
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"Stop right there!" the mercenary barked, his voice muffled by the mask.
Maya didn't stop. She ducked into a small service alcove, shielding Sophia with her own body as a heavy spray of bullets shattered the plaster wall right above her head, showering them in white dust and splinters.
