Chapter 7 - THE TRAP CLOSES AT DAWNBefore Clara could process the dark, terrifying weight of his words, the floor beneath their feet shuddered.
A muffled, concussive boom rattled the library windows. Glass cracked in the frames, and the distant, chaotic sound of screaming echoed from the front gates of the estate.
Matteo’s head snapped up. In a fraction of a second, the vulnerable, haunted man dissolved, leaving behind the ruthless syndicate leader. He grabbed his silver pistol from the desk, slamming a fresh magazine into the grip with practiced precision.
"Vince," Matteo growled, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. "He didn't just come to the party tonight. He planted explosives at the perimeter gates."
"He knows you're distracted," Clara said, her voice instantly clearing of emotion as survival instinct kicked back in. "He thinks you're vulnerable because of me."
"He's right about one thing," Matteo said, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, possessive intensity. "You are my vulnerability now. Which means if we don't end this tonight, neither of us survives the sunrise."
Heavy boots pounded down the hallway outside the library. The double doors didn't just open—they were blown inward by a secondary charge, sending splintered oak flying across the room.
Two masked men in tactical gear charged through the smoke, weapons raised.
Matteo didn't even hesitate. He fired twice, dropping the first man before the intruder could pull his trigger. As the second man raised his rifle toward Clara, Matteo threw himself in front of her, taking a grazing bullet to his left shoulder that tore through his custom tuxedo shirt, spilling dark blood onto the Persian rug.
Clara didn't scream. She lunged forward, grabbing the heavy, solid-brass candlestick from the mahogany desk and bringing it down with every ounce of her strength onto the second intruder's helmet as he tried to clear a jam. The man collapsed instantly, unconscious.
Matteo hissed through his teeth, clutching his bleeding shoulder as he staggered back against the desk. "I told you... to stay... behind me."
"And I told you I'm not a piece of furniture," Clara said, her hands shaking slightly as she pulled the smoking pistol from the unconscious man's tactical holster. She checked the safety, her eyes cold and steady. "How many men did Rossi bring?"
"Enough," Matteo muttered, his breathing growing heavier as blood soaked through his fingers. "The western courtyard is breached. We need to move to the underground transit tunnel before they blow the main house."
"Can you walk?" Clara demanded, slipping her arm around his waist, taking his heavy weight onto her shoulder.
May you like
Matteo let out a grim, dark laugh, his arm wrapping tightly around her waist as well. "With you holding me up? I could walk through hell."
"Good," Clara said, her eyes fixed on the burning hallway ahead. "Because that's exactly where we're heading."
