Chapter 9 - THE FINAL STAND IN THE FOYERThe grand foyer of the Caruso mansion was a cavern of shattered marble, burning drapery, and acrid gunsmoke.
Vincenzo stood at the top of the grand staircase, his Beretta empty, a spare magazine clutched in his bleeding hand. Beside him stood Paulie and Miller, firing steady, calculated bursts down into the dark, smoke-filled hallway below.
"Boss, they're too many!" Miller yelled, taking a bullet fragment to the shoulder and sliding down the wooden banister with a groan. "They've breached the front doors!"
Through the smoke, half a dozen men in tactical gear pushed into the foyer, their rifles sweeping the stairs. At their head was a scarred, bearded giant known only as The Wolf—Petrov’s most feared executioner.
"Give us the dog!" The Wolf roared in broken English, raising his rifle toward Vincenzo. "Give us the dog and the girl, and the rest of you walk out alive!"
Vincenzo raised his pistol, knowing it was the end. He had built his entire life on the premise that power could protect the people he loved, and now, standing in the ruins of his fortress, he realized how hollow that wall had always been.
Suddenly, a shadow detached itself from the darkness of the second-floor landing.
It wasn't a man.
It was Titan.
The massive brindle dog didn't use the stairs. He vaulted over the carved wooden banister of the second-floor landing, hurtling down through twelve feet of empty air like a furry thunderbolt straight into the center of the tactical squad below.
The impact was catastrophic.
Titan slammed directly into The Wolf, sending the giant mercenary crashing backward through a massive stained-glass window. Before the other guards could raise their weapons, the dog was a blur of teeth, muscle, and terrifying, silent rage.
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He didn't bark. He didn't hesitate. He tore through the mercenary line with the precise, brutal efficiency of an elite military unit.
In thirty seconds, the foyer was quiet again—save for the groans of wounded men and the heavy, rhythmic panting of the beast standing atop the pile of shattered glass and tactical gear.
