Chapter 6 - Siege of the Iron GatesThe heavy iron gates of the Moretti estate groaned as a massive armored delivery truck smashed right through them, scattering wrought-iron scrollwork across the snowy drive like matchsticks.
"Boss!" Charles Bennett’s voice squawked urgently over Dante’s encrypted earpiece. "Perimeter breached! At least twenty armed men in tactical gear are swarming the north gardens! They’ve jammed all cellular and radio signals!"
"Get Sofia and Emma into the panic room beneath Claire’s bedroom," Dante ordered, his voice cold, steady, and terrifyingly lethal. "Do not let them out for any reason. If anyone breaches the inner doors, use the wall charges."
"Understood, Boss. Good luck."
Dante stepped out of his study into the grand hallway. The moon, filtering through the massive skylights, cast eerie, silver beams across the marble floor. He didn't wait for them to find him. He moved with the silent, predatory grace of a ghost haunting his own halls.
The front doors shattered inward under the impact of a breaching charge. Wood splinters exploded like shrapnel as six heavily armed mercenaries in night-vision goggles poured into the foyer, their submachine guns raised.
Bang! Bang!
Dante fired from the grand staircase landing, taking down the two lead intruders before they could even level their weapons. The remaining four scattered, returning blind, deafening fire that chewed up the priceless walnut banister and sent marble chips flying.
"He’s on the stairs!" one mercenary shouted into his radio. "Flank him!"
Dante dropped low, rolling behind a massive marble pillar just as a hail of bullets chewed up the space he had occupied a second earlier. He pulled a flash-bang grenade from his belt, pulled the pin with his teeth, and tossed it around the corner.
FLASH! BOOM!
The blinding white light and thunderous concussion echoed through the high-ceilinged foyer. Screams of agony filled the air as the mercenaries dropped their weapons, clutching their ears and eyes. Dante stepped out from behind the pillar, his Sig Sauer barking twice more, neutralizing the immediate threat.
But as he reloaded, the heavy scent of gasoline drifted up from the lower floor.
"Smart bastard," Dante muttered, realizing Maroni’s true objective. They weren't just here to assassinate him—they were going to burn the house to the ground, trapping Sofia and Emma in the panic room.
Dante sprinted down the corridor toward the family wing, ignoring the burning pain in his shoulder. As he reached the hallway leading to Claire’s old room, he saw a hulking figure standing before the hidden panel, planting a high-explosive C4 charge against the reinforced steel door.
It was Bruno, Maroni’s chief enforcer—a mountain of muscle weighing nearly three hundred pounds.
"Going somewhere, Moretti?" Bruno grunted, turning around with a wicked grin, a detonator clutched in his massive hand. "Frankie says hello. And as for the brat and her mother—they’re going up in smoke with your precious memories!"
Dante didn't waste breath on words. He lunged forward like a striking viper.
Bruno swung a massive, haymaker punch that could have shattered a concrete pillar. Dante ducked under the blow at the last fraction of a second, driving his elbow upward with explosive force straight into Bruno’s ribs. A sickening crack echoed down the hall, but the brute barely flinched, tackling Dante hard against the wall.
The impact knocked the wind out of Dante’s lungs. Bruno grabbed him by the throat, hoisting the mafia boss off the floor with brute strength, pressing his thumbs against Dante’s windpipe.
"Die, you piece of—"
Before Bruno could finish, a tiny shadow darted out from the service alcove behind them.
It was Emma.
She had slipped out of the panic room when Charles briefly opened the secondary latch. In her small hands, she clutched her patched rag doll, Daisy, like a medieval mace. With a furious little scream that sounded like a cornered lion cub, Emma swung the doll—packed with a hard, weighted ceramic music box sewn inside its head by Sofia years ago—and smashed it with all her might directly against the back of Bruno’s knee.
The massive enforcer let out a roar of absolute shock as his knee buckled backward.
That single second of hesitation was all Dante needed. Channeling every ounce of his remaining adrenaline, Dante drove his heel into Bruno’s groin, twisted free from the suffocating grip, and wrapped his forearm around the brute's thick neck in a lethal rear-naked chokehold.
Bruno thrashed like a hooked shark for five agonizing seconds before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the floor like a felled oak tree.
Dante gasped for air, clutching his bruised throat. He instantly dropped to his knees, scooping trembling little Emma into his arms and pulling her tight against his chest.
"Are you okay?" Dante demanded, his voice thick with uncharacteristic panic as he checked her over for injuries.
Emma nodded, her big brown eyes wide, holding up her rag doll. "Daisy protected us," she whispered bravely. "She’s a very good knight."
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Dante stared at the little girl, a profound wave of emotion crashing over him that was ten times more powerful than the grief that had haunted him for three years. He pulled her against his heart, burying his face in her hair.
"Yes," Dante choked out, his voice trembling for the first time in his life. "She is the best knight in the world."
