Chapter 7 - The Final StandGunfire shattered the remaining lights, plunging the west wing into pitch-black darkness punctuated only by the blinding flashes of muzzle fire.
“Get down!” I screamed, diving across the floor toward Grace as a hail of bullets ripped through the air above us.
I grabbed her hand, dragging her behind the heavy steel frame of the broken dungeon door just as Viktor’s men opened fire blindly into the room. Glass shattered, plaster rained down, and the air filled with the thick stench of cordite and burning gunpowder.
“Dante... the baby... the contractions are starting,” Grace gasped, clutching her stomach with a cry of pure agony as the sheer stress of the ordeal forced her body into labor.
Panic surged through me. We were trapped in a crossfire, surrounded by enemies, with no way out through the ruined hallway.
“Hold on to me, baby. Just breathe. I’ve got you,” I whispered fiercely, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead while drawing a backup pistol from my ankle holster.
From the smoke-filled corridor, Viktor’s angry voice cut through the gunfire.
“Flush them out! Burn the whole damn wing down if you have to! I want them dead!”
Heavy footsteps approached our doorway. A man stepped into the threshold, raising an assault rifle to spray the room.
I didn't hesitate. I popped out from behind the steel frame and fired three rapid shots. The intruder dropped instantly, his rifle clattering to the floor.
I lunged forward, grabbed the fallen assault rifle and two extra magazines, and turned back to Grace. She was curled on the floor, biting her lip so hard it bled, trying not to scream.
“Dante... please...” she wept.
Suddenly, a heavy shadow loomed over the doorway.
Viktor Moretti himself stood there, holding a grenade with the pin pulled halfway out, a twisted, maniacal grin on his face.
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“End of the line, Dante. If I can't have the empire, nobody will.”
He raised his arm to hurl the explosive directly into our shelter.
