Chapter 5 - The Siege of Ashcroft Street"Get down!" Julian roared, lunging across the table and pulling Nora off her stool just as a volley of high-caliber rounds chewed through the vinyl booth where they had been sitting.
Wood splinters and foam stuffing erupted into the air. Glass rained down like diamond dust.
"Vince Moretti didn't just send Frankie," Julian muttered, drawing his Sig Sauer with his right hand while shielding Nora’s body with his own left arm. "He sent a cleanup crew. They want no witnesses—starting with the girl who knows where the old syndicate buried its bodies."
Ghost didn't panic. The mastiff dropped low to the floor, positioning himself between Nora and the shattered storefront, his low, rumbling growl vibrating through the floorboards like an earthquake warning.
"Julian," Nora said calmly, her fingers gripping the sleeve of his coat with surprising strength. "The back alley. Behind the walk-in freezer. There’s a service door that hasn't been bolted shut since the city council inspected the drains in '18."
Julian didn't question her. In the span of a heartbeat, his mind calculated the tactical landscape. The front entrance was covered by at least three assault rifles firing 5.56 rounds. They were pinned down unless they moved right now.
"Ghost! Heel!" Julian commanded.
The mastiff snapped to his side instantly, moving with the discipline of a military K-9.
Julian pulled Nora up, wrapping one arm firmly around her waist while keeping his pistol tracking the front windows. A burst of automatic fire shattered the remaining neon sign outside, plunging the diner into flickering shadows.
"Move!" Julian shouted.
They bolted toward the kitchen. The cook was already cowering under the stainless steel prep table, praying in Spanish, completely paralyzed by fear. Julian kicked open the heavy aluminum door leading to the walk-in freezer hallway, shoving Nora and the dog inside just as a grenade clattered through the front window of the diner.
BOOM.
The shockwave blew the kitchen doors off their hinges, sending a wall of superheated air and white-hot shrapnel whistling down the corridor. Julian threw himself over Nora as the ceiling tiles rained down in a blinding cloud of dust and fiberglass insulation.
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Through the ringing in his ears, Julian heard the heavy combat boots of Moretti’s hit squad stepping into the ruined kitchen.
"Clear the back!" a harsh voice barked. "The boss wants Voss and the girl dead. No exceptions!"
