Chapter 11 - THE MIDNIGHT INTRUDER
Title: Shadows in the Nursery: When the Dantis Fortress Was Breached
The bulletproof glass of the ground-floor nursery didn't shatter; it starred into a chaotic web of gray cracks under the force of a heavy-duty hydraulic cutter. Sparks rained down onto the manicured turf of the courtyard as an anonymous hand sliced through the steel frame.
Inside, Barnaby didn't bark. The massive cane corso went entirely rigid, his hackles raising into a stiff black ridge along his spine. He stepped directly in front of the door connecting the animal rehabilitation wing to the main residential hall, a low, guttural warning rumbling deep within his massive chest.
Two floors above, Aleandro woke instantly. In the dark master suite, his hand moved with military precision to the Sig Sauer pistol resting on the nightstand. Beside him, Daisy stirred, blinking sleepily against the pale moonlight filtering through the silk curtains.
"Aleandro?" she murmured, her hand reaching out to touch his bare shoulder. "What is it?"
"Stay in bed," he whispered, his voice cold and flat as obsidian.
Before he could swing his legs over the mattress, a sharp, electronic shriek echoed through the mansion's intercom system. It wasn't the external alarm. It was the biometric panic button from the ground-floor security hub.
Intruders in sector four. Repeat, sector four.
Aleandro pulled on his holster harness over his bare chest in seconds, his eyes locking onto Daisy’s with a fierce, terrifying intensity. "Lock the suite door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone—not even Salvatore, unless he gives the code word."
"What code word?" Daisy asked, her sleepy haze vanishing, replaced by the sharp, steely resolve that had first caught his attention in this very courtyard.
"The day you fed Barnaby beef liver," Aleandro muttered, already slipping out into the dark hallway.
Downstairs, the quiet elegance of the Dantis estate dissolved into a maze of flickering emergency lights and the sharp, rhythmic crack of suppressed gunfire. Salvatore and three senior capos had already formed a defensive perimeter near the grand staircase, their submachine guns tracking the shadows of the lower foyer.
"Boss! They came through the old drainage tunnels under the boathouse!" Salvatore shouted over the noise of shattering glass. "Not the Morettis. These guys are wearing unmarked tactical gear. Professionals. Russian or Eastern European."
Aleandro descended the stairs two at a time, his Beretta raised. "How many?"
"At least a dozen. They're not trying to assassinate you, Aleandro," Salvatore said grimly, firing a tight three-round burst into the shadows near the grand piano. "They're trying to breach the kennel wing."
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Aleandro froze. A cold, blinding rage surged through his veins. They weren't coming for him. They were coming for Daisy’s rescue dogs—the ultimate leverage against the only woman who had ever broken through his armor.
"Over my dead body," Aleandro whispered.
