Chapter 8 - The Breach in the GardenIt was 2:00 AM when the silent alarms tripped.
In the master suite, Isabella woke instantly to a soft, vibrating red light on her bedside console. Dante woke too, letting out a low, warning growl.
Before Isabella could even sit up, the door swung open. Lorenzo Moretti stood in the doorway, fully dressed in a black tactical turtleneck, a heavy shoulder holster strapped across his broad chest, holding a suppressed automatic pistol.
"Get out of bed," Moretti ordered, his voice low and urgent. "Now."
"What's happening?" Isabella asked, her heart leaping into her throat.
"We have uninvited guests," Moretti said, walking over and grabbing her hand, pulling her firmly toward the adjoining reinforced panic room hidden behind the bookshelf. "Gomez sent a hit squad. They bypassed the outer sensors through the old drainage tunnels."
"They're here? In the house?" Panic washed over her in a freezing wave. "Because of me! They're looking for me!"
Moretti stopped, turning to face her. He gripped her shoulders, his dark eyes locking onto hers with absolute, unshakeable force.
"Listen to me, Isabella," he commanded, his voice cutting through her panic like a blade. "You are under my protection. Nobody touches you while I draw breath. Do you understand?"
Before she could answer, the sharp, muffled pop-pop-pop of suppressed gunfire echoed from the corridor outside.
Moretti shoved her gently into the steel-reinforced panic room, placing a heavy keypad device into her hands. "Stay inside. Lock the door. If I don't open this within twenty minutes, press the red evacuation button. A tunnel leads straight to the harbor. A boat will be waiting."
"Lorenzo, no!" Isabella cried, grabbing his sleeve. "Don't go out there alone!"
A rare, fierce smile touched Moretti’s lips—a look of absolute, terrifying confidence.
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"I'm not alone, Isabella," he said softly. "I'm in my own house."
He closed the heavy steel door, plunging her into darkness, leaving her alone with the sound of war raging outside.
