Chapter 4 - A BULLET FOR THE CHILD: The Midnight Escape From the House of Traitors
“Stay down!” Alessandro roared, grabbing Sophia and Emma and pulling them behind his heavy mahogany desk.
He pulled his custom 9mm handgun from his holster and checked the magazine. Seventeen rounds. He had two spare magazines in his pocket. Thirty-four more.
The security system was down. That meant the outer guard posts had already been compromised. His own men—the ones loyal to Vincenzo—had opened the gates from the inside.
“Alessandro!” a voice boomed from the hallway downstairs. It was Vincenzo’s voice, amplified by the mansion’s high ceilings. “Alessandro, come out! Let’s make this easy, brother! You don't have to die in the dark!”
“He’s here,” Sophia gasped, holding Emma so tightly the child could barely breathe. Emma didn't cry. She was too terrified, her eyes locked on the door.
“Listen to me,” Alessandro whispered, his face inches from Sophia’s. “There is a safe room behind the bookshelf. It’s reinforced steel. It has its own air supply and a secure radio. You and Emma go in. You do not open it for anyone but me. Do you understand?”
“No, Alessandro, come with us!” Sophia pleaded, grabbing his lapel.
“If I go in there, they will just blow the door with C4,” Alessandro said, his voice cold and steady. “I have to clear the house. I have to kill them all.”
He pressed a hidden button under the desk. With a heavy groan of gears, the massive oak bookshelf on the far wall swung open, revealing a dark, steel-lined vault.
“Go. Now,” he ordered.
Sophia didn't hesitate. She scrambled across the floor, dragging Emma with her. Just as they reached the threshold of the safe room, the heavy double doors of the study blew inward with a deafening blast.
Wood splinters and dust filled the air.
Alessandro spun around, firing three quick shots into the doorway. A man in a tactical mask fell backward, his chest blooming with red.
But more were coming. Three armed men poured into the room, their submachine guns spitting fire. The mahogany desk disintegrated under the hail of bullets.
Alessandro rolled behind a leather sofa, firing as he moved. He took down another shooter with a clean shot to the neck, but a bullet grazed his shoulder, tearing through his expensive wool coat and leaving a hot, searing trail of pain.
“Get the kid!” a voice screamed from the doorway.
Alessandro looked through the haze of gunsmoke. One of the gunmen had bypassed the desk and was heading straight for the safe room. Sophia was inside, trying to pull the heavy steel door shut, but Emma had tripped on the threshold. Her small leg was caught.
The gunman leveled his weapon at the little girl.
“No!” Alessandro roared.
He didn't think. He didn't calculate the angles. He threw his body over the top of the sofa, exposing himself completely to the remaining shooter.
Bang! Bang!
Alessandro fired twice. The first bullet hit the gunman’s shoulder, throwing off his aim. The second bullet caught him directly under the chin. The man collapsed onto the carpet, his gun firing a wild burst into the ceiling.
But Alessandro paid the price. A heavy round from the other shooter caught him in the side. The impact felt like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending him crashing to the floor.
He lay on his back, the taste of copper in his mouth.
Through the smoke, he saw Vincenzo walk into the room. He wasn't wearing his tactical gear. He was still in his charcoal suit, looking immaculate, stepping over the bodies of his own men with a look of mild annoyance.
Vincenzo walked over to Alessandro and looked down at him. He kicked Alessandro’s gun away, sending it spinning across the hardwood floor.
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“You always were too sentimental, Alessandro,” Vincenzo said, shaking his head. “A great boss, but a terrible survivor. You should have let the maid die. It would have saved you a lot of trouble.”
Vincenzo raised his silver-plated pistol, aiming it directly at Alessandro’s forehead.
