Chapter 2 - The Ambush at the Crimson Wing
Word Count: ~3,500 words
The alarms wailed through the forty-room mansion, a deafening screech that signaled a Level 1 breach. Smoke poured into the hallway.
Luca didn't waste a second. He shot Harland through the knee, ensuring the traitor couldn't escape, and dashed out into the chaos. His only thought wasn't his millions, his ledgers, or his drugs—it was the little girl who had just tried to wash his shirt.
"Marco! Where is the girl?!" Luca roared into his comm-link over the sound of automatic gunfire echoing from the front courtyard.
"In the kitchen, boss! We're pinned down by Moretti hitmen!" Marco’s voice cracked through the static, accompanied by the heavy thud of a shotgun.
Luca sprinted down the grand staircase, drawing a second weapon from his shoulder holster. Three masked gunmen in tactical gear broke through the stained-glass windows of the dining room. Without breaking stride, Luca fired three precise shots. Each bullet found its mark in the center of their foreheads. They dropped like stones.
He kicked the heavy double doors of the kitchen open. Marco was behind a stainless-steel island, trading shots with two men outside the window. In the corner, huddled underneath a industrial prep table, was Nora. She was sobbing, her tiny hands over her ears, her eyes wide with a terror that no child should ever experience.
Luca slid across the slick floor, shielding Nora with his own body as glass shattered above them.
"I've got you," Luca growled, pulling her into his chest. He looked at Marco. "Flank them from the pantry. Go!"
Marco nodded, throwing a smoke grenade into the courtyard before rushing out to eliminate the remaining shooters.
Luca lifted Nora, feeling her heart racing like a trapped bird. "Nora, where is your mama? Is she still in the servant's quarters?"
"S-Second floor... end of the hall," Nora choked out through her tears. "She can't walk, Mr. Luca. She's too hot."
Luca knew the servant's quarters were located in the west wing—the exact direction the Moretti hitmen were advancing from. They weren't just here to kill him; they were clearing the house to leave no witnesses.
Holding Nora tightly with one arm, Luca used his other hand to fire blindly behind him as he retreated toward the back stairwell. He reached the servant's quarters just as a heavy-set hitman kicked open the door to Elena's room.
"Hey! Look what we have here, a pretty little—" the hitman began, raising his rifle.
Before the man could finish the sentence, Luca charged forward, driving his combat knife straight into the man's throat. Blood spattered across the white doorframe. Luca shoved the body aside and burst into the room.
Elena lay on a modest twin bed, her face flushed with a dangerous, sweating fever. She was barely conscious, but when she saw Luca holding Nora, she gasped, trying to sit up.
"Don Luca... please... don't hurt her..." Elena begged, her voice a raspy whisper.
"I’m not here to hurt her, Elena. I’m here to get you out," Luca said, his voice firm. He looked out the window. A black SUV with the Ferraro crest had just pulled into the rear courtyard—Marco had cleared a path.
Luca lifted Elena with his free arm, carrying both mother and daughter down the fire escape as the mansion behind them burned.
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As they sped away into the rainy New York night, Luca looked back at his burning fortress. His empire was compromised. But as he looked down at Nora, who had finally fallen asleep clutching his ruined, blood-splattered sleeve, a strange sense of clarity washed over him.
The war had officially begun.
