THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME CRAWL UNDER HIS ENGAGEMENT TABLE TO FIND HIS TEN-YEAR-OLD SON'S WHITE CANE—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “HE THREW IT AWAY BECAUSE HE WANTED ATTENTION,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THE BLIND LITTLE BOY WAS ON HIS KNEES, CRYING AND BEGGING ME NOT TO MAKE HIM WALK ALONE AGAIN. / Chapter 7 / 15

Chapter 7 - The Rainy Night Ambush at the Estate Gates and the Bodyguard Who Turned Traitor

By Saturday evening, a torrential autumn storm had battered Chicago, turning the streets into slick ribbons of black glass and hammering rain against the estate windows.

Inside the main sitting room, Noah was curled up on the velvet sofa with a stack of new Braille adventure books, his white cane resting safely against the armrest. I sat across from him, helping him trace the raised dots of a map of the Arctic Circle while Luca reviewed security logs at his desk.

"Miss Hannah?" Noah whispered, tilting his head. "Is someone walking outside? I heard a heavy car door slam near the east gate."

My heart skipped a beat. I looked up at Luca.

Luca was already on his feet, his hand sliding seamlessly beneath his jacket to grip the polished grip of a silenced pistol. He gestured sharply to Dante, who had been standing quietly by the double doors.

"Lock down the east wing," Luca ordered in a low, sharp whisper. "Cut the exterior perimeter lights. If anyone breaches the inner garden wall, bring Noah to the panic room behind the library."

"Boss," Dante muttered, his face pale. "It's Miller—the night guard who was compromised. He gave the mercenaries the blind spots in our motion sensors."

Suddenly, the estate's main power grid cut out with a heavy thud. The brilliant chandeliers overhead flickered and died, plunging the grand room into deep, violet-tinged darkness illuminated only by the flashes of lightning outside the tall French windows.

Noah gasped, dropping his book. "Daddy! The lights went out!"

"I'm right here, buddy," Luca said, rushing across the room and kneeling beside the sofa. He scooped Noah into his arms in one fluid motion. "Hannah, take his hand. Stay behind me."

We moved silently down the darkened hallway toward the library corridor. The sound of shattering glass echoed from the foyer—someone had thrown a heavy iron anchor through the front stained-glass window.

Shouts rang out in the foyer. Heavy footsteps pounded against the marble floor.

"Moretti!" a gruff foreign voice yelled over the sound of thunder. "Hand over the boy and the ledger, and nobody gets hurt!"

Luca pushed Noah and me into the hidden alcove behind the massive oak bookshelves, sliding the heavy panel half-shut. He handed me a heavy iron key.

"Lock this from the inside if you hear gunfire," Luca commanded, his eyes locked onto mine with fierce intensity.

"Luca, no—don't go out there alone!" I cried, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

He reached out, his warm hand pressing gently against my cheek for a fraction of a second, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I have to protect my family, Hannah. Stay with my son."