Chapter 8 - Ashes and EmpireTime seemed to freeze. I looked at Viktor, then down at Grace, who was fighting for her life and the life of our unborn child. I didn't hesitate.
I raised the assault rifle and pulled the trigger, emptying the entire magazine straight into Viktor’s chest before he could release the spoon of the grenade.
Viktor staggered backward with a look of utter shock, the grenade slipping from his limp fingers and rolling across the bloody concrete floor.
“Run!” I screamed, scooping Grace up into my arms despite her heavy labor pains and diving through the shattered window frame out into the pouring rain of the courtyard just as the grenade detonated behind us.
BOOM!
The entire west wing of the Rossi estate erupted in a massive fireball, shattering the remaining windows and sending shockwaves rippling through the night.
We hit the wet grass hard, rolling safely behind a stone fountain as debris rained down around us.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Within seconds, armored vehicles bearing the insignia of our loyalist coalition breached the wrought-iron front gates, flooding the courtyard and neutralizing Viktor’s remaining stunned mercenaries in a swift, coordinated sweep.
Marcus staggered out from the smoke, coughing heavily but alive, rushing over to us with a medical kit in hand.
“Sir! The perimeter is secure! Medical team is here!” Marcus yelled over the roaring flames of the burning estate.
I held Grace tightly against my chest in the pouring rain, ignoring the mud, the blood, and the destruction of the empire I had inherited. Her breathing was fast, her fingers digging desperately into my jacket as another contraction wracked her body.
“Dante... the baby... he’s coming right now,” she whispered, her eyes shining with tears of relief and exhaustion.
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I looked down at her, then out at the burning ruins of my childhood home where my mother’s reign of terror had finally ended in ashes. The darkness was gone. The lies were burned away.
“Let him come,” I smiled softly, pressing my forehead against hers as the first cry of a newborn child pierced the stormy night air, marking the birth of a new era—one built not on blood and deceit, but on truth and survival.
