Chapter 6 - Project Zero in Action"Move!" Dante yelled, grabbing Julian and shoving all three boys toward the back pantry. "Claire, take them through the tunnels!"
"I'm not running," Claire said, her voice dropping an octave into a tone that made even the heavily armed mercenaries hesitate for a fraction of a second.
She looked at the boys, then at the shattered foyer, and finally at Matteo’s drawing on the nursery wall upstairs—Project Zero.
"Boys," Claire shouted over the gunfire rattling against the interior doors. "Remember your architectural flaws? The main corridor is a kill zone!"
Leo’s eyes widened. He grabbed Julian’s arm. "The West Staircase! The blind spot!"
Instead of running toward the panic room, the three triplets darted down the secondary service hall, dragging Claire behind them.
"What are you doing?!" Dante roared, firing a suppressive burst through the doorway at the advancing mercenaries.
"Trust your kids!" Claire yelled back. "They built the map!"
Dante hesitated, his chest heaving, before covering their flank as they retreated into the sprawling industrial kitchen.
Vance’s men flooded the dining hall, shouting orders, scanning the corners for targets. But they didn't know the house. They didn't know the blind spots.
And they certainly didn't know that eight-year-old mafia heirs armed with a brigade of industrial cleaning chemicals, heavy cast-iron skillets, and a fearless single mom were waiting for them.
"Now, Julian!" Leo screamed.
Julian slammed his hand down on the master control panel hidden behind the pantry door, triggering the industrial kitchen's overhead fire-suppression sprinklers—not with water, but with a massive, blinding cloud of heavy kitchen foam and slippery industrial grease pumped directly through the vents.
The mercenaries stormed the kitchen, only to slip, slide, and crash into the stainless-steel counters in a chaotic pile of limbs and dropped rifles.
May you like
"Clear!" Matteo yelled, tossing a heavy jar of pickled jalapenos directly at the lead attacker’s visor with deadly accuracy.
Claire didn't hesitate. She vaulted across the stainless-steel prep table, swept the legs out from under the second mercenary, and slammed a heavy cast-iron skillet across his helmet with a satisfying thwack that knocked him out cold.
