Chapter 13
The second explosion tore through the mansion with deafening force.BOOM! The floor beneath our feet vibrated violently. Dust, soot, and shattered ceiling tiles rained down over the mahogany desk. Choking black smoke billowed into the study from the hallway. “Get down!” Luca shouted, lunging forward and pulling Catherine and Teresa behind the heavy stone fireplace. I hit the floor, coughing violently as the thick smoke filled my lungs. “The Detroit syndicate!” Catherine hacked, wiping ash from her face. “They didn’t wait for Marcus. They came to wipe out everyone!” Luca stood up through the haze, grabbing his submachine gun from the floor. His face was covered in soot, his eyes blazing with fury. “They want war?” Luca roared. “I’ll give them a war.” He turned toward Catherine. Her pistol was still in her hand. For a moment, past enemies locked eyes—and then, without a single word spoken, they became allies. “Cover the hallway,” Luca commanded Catherine. “Hannah, stay with my mother. Take the service tunnel behind the bookshelf.” “No!” I yelled over the roaring flames licking at the study door. “I’m not hiding anymore, Mr. Moretti! I’m staying right here!” Luca stared at me for a split second, then gave a sharp nod. “Fine! Grab that shotgun from the rack!” I scrambled to the antique gun cabinet, shattering the glass with the butt of a flashlight, and pulled out a heavy 12-gauge Remington shotgun. My hands shook, but my grip was ironclad. The heavy oak doors of the study blew inward in an explosion of splinters. Three masked men in tactical gear poured into the room, assault rifles raised. “Light ‘em up!” one of them yelled.RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! Bullets chewed through the bookshelves, sending leather-bound books flying in shreds. Catherine didn’t hesitate. She stepped out from behind the stone pillar and fired three precise shots.Bang! Bang! Bang! The lead gunman dropped instantly, clutching his chest. Luca opened fire with his submachine gun, driving the other two back into the burning hallway. “Push forward!” Luca shouted. We moved out of the study and into the grand hallway. Flames were roaring up the dual staircases, turning the luxurious mansion into a blazing inferno. Sirens wailed in the distance—real police this time, responding to the massive explosions. “We’re cut off from the front!” Sofia’s voice called out from the smoke. She was running down the service corridor, carrying an extra box of ammunition. “The whole perimeter is mined!” Sofia coughed. “How do we get out?” I yelled over the roar of the fire. Teresa stepped forward. Her 78-year-old face was resolute, showing no fear whatsoever. “The wine cellar,” the old matriarch said calmly. “There’s an old escape tunnel built during Prohibition. It leads straight down to the lake docks.” “Move!” Luca ordered, leading the way. We fought our way through the burning corridors, dodging falling timber and suffocating smoke. As we reached the heavy iron cellar doors at the back of the kitchen, a dark figure stepped out from the shadows of the pantry. It was Thomas. His head was bandaged from where I had hit him with the wine bottle, but his eyes were wide and manic. In his hand, he held a heavy assault rifle, pointing it directly at Teresa’s head. “End of the line, family,” Thomas sneered, his finger twitching on the trigger. “If I’m going down, I’m taking the matriarch with me.” CLIFFHANGER: Before Thomas could pull the trigger, Catherine raised her pistol and fired a single shot that struck his rifle barrel, shattering it into pieces just as the entire kitchen ceiling began to collapse downward.
