Chapter 5 - Blood on the Gravel
The crack of Lorenzo’s Beretta echoed off the stone facade of the mansion, startling a flock of crows from the oak trees.
Marco stumbled backward, his hand clutching his shoulder where the bullet had torn through muscle and bone, his own weapon clattering uselessly against the gravel. Before he could hit the ground, Lorenzo was on him, booting the fallen gun away and slamming the traitor against the side of the car with enough force to rattle the windows.
"Who else?" Lorenzo growled, pressing the cold barrel of his pistol directly beneath Marco’s chin, forcing the man's head back. "Give me their names, Marco, or I swear to God I’ll feed you to Bruno piece by piece."
Marco coughed, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth, but a sick, twisted smile crept across his pale face.
"You're... you're too late, Lorenzo," Marco wheezed, his eyes darting toward the grand double doors of the mansion. "Victor is dead, yes... but the syndicate he built doesn't die with him. The board of directors already knows you found her. They’ve known since you left the gates this morning."
Lorenzo’s blood ran cold. He spun around, looking up at the second-story windows of his study.
The lights inside were on.
Flames were licking against the antique glass of the library window on the west wing. Thick, black smoke began to billow outward, twisting into the morning sky.
The safehouse wasn't the target. The estate was.
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"Emma! Marta! Get down!" Lorenzo roared, abandoning Marco in the gravel and sprinting toward the back seat of the car. He yanked the door open, scooping Isabella and little Emma into his arms just as a hail of automatic gunfire raked across the roof of the car, shattering the rear windshield into a million glittering diamonds.
Men in tactical black gear were pouring over the rear stone wall of the estate, rifles raised, advancing with lethal, military precision. The Duca family security force had been compromised from the inside out.
