Chapter 19 - THE FINAL THREATThe tender moment in the office was abruptly shattered by the shrill, ear-piercing sound of the high-security emergency alarm.
WEE-WOO! WEE-WOO! WEE-WOO!
Red strobe lights flashed violently across the penthouse walls.
Adrian broke away from our kiss instantly, his demeanor shifting in a fraction of a second from a loving husband back to the lethal mafia commander. He grabbed his encrypted tablet from the desk.
“What is it?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat.
“Perimeter breach,” Adrian snapped, his fingers flying across the terminal keys. “The secondary firewall just went down. Multiple thermal signatures detected coming up through the private service elevator.”
Suddenly, the intercom crackled to life, and Izzy’s frantic voice cut through the alarm.
“Addie! Elena! Get out of the office now!” Izzy shouted over the sound of gunfire echoing in the background. “It’s not the Triad! It’s the Sicilian syndicate! They found the vault backup keys!”
Before Adrian could even grab his weapon, the heavy mahogany double doors of the office exploded inward in a shower of splinters and smoke.
Through the haze stepped a tall, imposing man with slicked-back gray hair and a cold, ruthless smile—Don Salvatore Rossi of the Sicilian mafia, flanked by four heavily armed mercenaries.
“Well, well, well,” Salvatore sneered, raising a silenced pistol directly toward Adrian. “The great Adrian Kane, caught with his pants down by his pretty little secretary. Or should I say... his wife.”
Adrian smoothly stepped in front of me, shielding my body with his own, his right hand sliding slowly toward the tactical holster concealed beneath his suit jacket.
“Salvatore,” Adrian growled, his voice like grinding ice. “You survived the purge five years ago. I should have finished you then.”
“You were too busy falling in love with an accountant to notice your borders were bleeding, Kane,” Salvatore laughed darkly, cocking his weapon. “Today, the Kane family ends. I take the ports, I take the empire, and I take your wife as collateral.”
My blood ran cold.
Salvatore raised his gun, his finger tightening on the trigger, aiming straight at Adrian’s chest.
“Drop the weapon, you old bastard!”
A sharp, familiar voice echoed from the doorway behind the Sicilian thugs.
We all turned our heads.
Standing in the shattered doorway was Noah—holding a bright pink plastic nerf blaster, looking dead serious, while little Chloe stood beside him holding a stuffed elephant like a club.
Even more terrifyingly, right behind Noah stood Isabella Kane—Adrian’s formidable mother—holding a double-barreled shotgun with absolute, aristocratic elegance, her finger resting lightly on the trigger.
Salvatore and his thugs froze in absolute shock. You simply do not expect a seventy-year-old mafia matriarch and a six-year-old boy with a toy gun to crash a hostage situation.
“You’re pointing a gun at my son and my daughter-in-law in my son's house,” Isabella Kane said coldly, her voice dripping with aristocratic venom. “In my day, we taught stray dogs some manners before putting them down.”
Salvatore snarled, trying to pivot his gun toward Isabella.
That microsecond of hesitation was all Adrian Kane needed.
With blinding, predatory speed, Adrian drew his weapon and fired two rapid shots.
Bang! Bang!
Salvatore’s gun clattered to the marble floor as he dropped to his knees, clutching his shoulder in agony. Marco and Izzy swarmed in from the hallway behind Isabella, instantly subduing the remaining Sicilian mercenaries in a flurry of tactical maneuvers.
The fight was over almost as quickly as it had begun.
Adrian stood over Salvatore, breathing heavily, his gray-blue eyes blazing with absolute fury. But before he could finish the Sicilian boss, Noah walked up, pointed his nerf gun right at Salvatore’s nose, and said very seriously:
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“You’re grounded. No TV for a hundred years.”
Even in the middle of a mafia shootout, a burst of helpless laughter escaped my lips.
