Chapter 4 - NIGHT OF THE RED DOTHunter didn't scream. Grief and months of living in fear had burned the instinct to panic out of her blood.
Instead, she stepped directly between the intruder and the crib, using her body as a human shield.
"If you shoot me," Hunter said, her voice dropping to a terrifying register, "the sound of my body hitting the floor will bring the man guarding that hall. He has an automatic weapon, and he doesn't care about collateral damage."
"The guards on the hall are already unconscious," the intruder sneered, stepping into the dim light of her phone’s flashlight. "Gas through the ventilation system. Lorenzo is downstairs arguing with his sister-in-law, completely oblivious that his primary security grid was overridden three minutes ago."
The intruder raised the weapon, pointing it at Hunter’s heart. "Step aside. The Moretti family sends their regards. Little Leo is going to join his mother."
Hunter’s mind raced. The man was moving toward the crib. She had less than two seconds.
She didn't run. She didn't beg.
Hunter lunged forward, slamming her heavy flashlight directly into the intruder’s night-vision goggles.
The glass shattered. The intruder let out a muffled scream of pain as the impact drove the shattered frame into his eye sockets. The gun went off—a soft pfft-pfft—and two bullets shattered the antique mirror on the wall behind her.
Hunter didn't stop. She grabbed a heavy bronze bust of Dante from the side table and swung it with all the strength born from a mother who had already lost one child.
CRACK.
The bronze skull smashed into the intruder’s jaw. He fell backward, crashing through the glass balcony door. The icy wind and rain rushed into the room, swirling silk curtains wildly. The assassin hit the stone balustrade, struggled to regain his balance, and slipped over the edge, plunging two hundred feet down into the jagged rocks and raging Atlantic surf below.
Hunter panted, her hands covered in shards of glass and blood.
Leo began to scream—a loud, healthy, terrifying cry of fear.
Hunter rushed to the crib, scooped the baby into her arms, and held him close to her chest, whispering frantically, "I've got you, I've got you, Leo... Mama's got you..."
The nursery door was kicked open with tremendous force.
Lorenzo burst into the room, his gun drawn, followed by Marco and four armed men. They took in the scene in a fraction of a second: the shattered balcony glass, the blood on the floor, Hunter standing in the middle of the storm holding Leo, and the dead assassin gone into the sea.
Lorenzo rushed forward, dropping his weapon, and pulled both Hunter and the baby into his arms. He held them with a desperate, terrifying force, his chest heaving.
"Are you hit? Are you bleeding?" Lorenzo demanded, his hands trembling as he checked Hunter’s body for gunshot wounds.
"It's not my blood," Hunter gasped, shaking violently now that the adrenaline was fading. "He had a keycard to the balcony. He knew the security codes to the power grid, Lorenzo. He knew the gas was coming through the vents!"
Lorenzo stood up, his face transforming into a mask of pure, demonic rage. He turned to Marco.
"Lockdown the estate," Lorenzo ordered softly. "Nobody leaves. Not the servants, not the guards, and especially not my sister-in-law Carmela."
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"Boss, Carmela is in the parlor—"
"Bring her to the basement," Lorenzo commanded, his voice cold enough to freeze water. "And bring Tommy Vance. My boys picked him up an hour ago in Queens. It’s time for a family reunion."
