Chapter 3 - BULLETS AND SECRETS"Get down!" Damian roared, instantly diving tackle-style and shoving Elena and the sleeping toddler behind the heavy oak frame of the bed.
Another round of gunfire ripped through the exterior wall, splintering drywall and raining plaster over their heads.
"Sniper from the north warehouse roof!" Marco shouted through the comms crackle in his ear. "Two tangos moving in through the back patio! Boss, we're compromised!"
Damian didn't hesitate. He drew a suppressed Glock from his shoulder holster with terrifying fluidity, his eyes scanning the perimeter through the broken window. He handed a secondary weapon—a compact Sig Sauer—to Elena.
"Can you shoot?" he demanded.
"I can't—"
"You can now, or you and your daughter die on this floor!" Damian grabbed her hand, forcing the cold steel into her palm and wrapping her fingers around the grip. "Aim at the door. Anyone who comes through that frame without calling out my name, you pull the trigger until the slide locks back."
Elena’s entire body was shaking so hard she could barely hold the weight of the gun. She looked down at Sofia, who had woken up crying, terrified by the deafening noise. Elena pulled the child tightly against her chest, shielding her tiny body with her own while pointing the barrel toward the bedroom doorway with her free hand.
Footsteps pounded up the wooden stairs—heavy, calculated, moving with military precision.
Bang! Bang!
Marco's voice echoed from the hallway, followed by the wet thud of a body hitting the floorboards.
"Clear in the hall!" Marco yelled out, barging into the bedroom with blood smeared across his cheek. "Boss, we caught one alive. But he swallowed a cyanide capsule before I could dig his jaw open. Professional hit. They aren't local street thugs; these are ghost operatives."
Damian stood up slowly, holstering his weapon, his face carved from stone. "Ghosts don't exist, Marco. Only men taking orders from someone who knows we found the tape."
He looked down at Elena, who was still kneeling on the floor, breathing in ragged gasps. The metallic smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the freezing room.
"They didn't come to kill us," Damian realized aloud, his eyes widening slightly. "They came to destroy the box."
Elena looked down at the metal lockbox on the dresser. The lid was still open, but the microcassette recorder inside was smoking, its internal battery punctured and melted by an incendiary round that had passed straight through the metal casing during the crossfire.
"The tape..." Elena whispered. "It's gone."
"Not completely," Damian said, stepping over to the smoking wreckage and retrieving the microchip card hidden beneath the tape deck—a digital backup slot her mother must have installed. "Your mother was paranoid, Elena. She backed up every conversation she ever had with the Rossi loyalists."
He pocketed the chip and extended a hand down to Elena. This time, she didn't hesitate. She grabbed his hand, letting him pull her up to her feet.
"Who wants us dead, Damian?" she asked, her voice dropping the fear and taking on a cold, hardened edge that surprised even him. "Who killed my mother, stole my child, and is now trying to erase the truth?"
Damian stepped close enough that she could feel the heat of his body cutting through the drafty chill of the room.
"My uncle, Viktor Caruso," Damian said, the name tasting like poison on his tongue. "He’s the one who took over the syndicate when my father died. He’s the one who wanted an heir he could control—or a war to destroy everything I've built."
May you like
He looked at Sofia, who was clinging to Elena’s neck, whimpering softly.
"And he just made the biggest mistake of his life by trying to kill my daughter's mother."
