Chapter 3 - The Siege of Astoria"GET DOWN!" Lorenzo roared.
In a fraction of a second, Lorenzo lunged forward, grabbing Sophie around the waist and tackling her to the hardwood floor just as a second high-calibre bullet shattered the wooden frame of her bookshelf, showering them with splinters and paper.
The dark room erupted into chaos. Outside, the rain poured, but the silent, deadly hiss of suppressed rifle fire echoed through the alleyway.
"They're on the roof across the street!" Lorenzo yelled, staying low as he dragged Sophie behind the reinforced granite kitchen island.
Sophie’s heart was hammering against her ribs, but her instincts—honed by childhood drills under her father's watch—kicked in instantly. "They used a spotter! There are at least three of them!"
Lorenzo pulled a sleek, black Sig Sauer pistol from his shoulder holster, checking the magazine with practiced speed. "Scalia’s men moved faster than I thought. One of the staff at Levetta must be on their payroll."
He looked at Sophie, his eyes dark with fierce protectiveness. "Can you run?"
"I ran across the hills of Palermo in high heels while men were shooting at me, Lorenzo," Sophie snapped, grabbing her father's signet ring from the counter above and slipping it onto her thumb. "I can run."
A slow, dangerous smile touched Lorenzo’s lips despite the deadly situation. "That’s my girl."
He leaned around the corner of the kitchen island, firing three rapid shots through the shattered window. A high-pitched shriek echoed from the rooftop across the street as one of the snipers fell from the ledge, plunging into the alley below.
"Move! Now!" Lorenzo shouted.
They sprinted out of the apartment into the hallway. But as they reached the stairwell, heavy footsteps echoed from below. Three men in dark tactical gear, carrying automatic submachine guns, were charging up the concrete stairs.
"Back!" Lorenzo ordered, firing down the stairwell.
The lead attacker dropped, but the other two returned fire, bullets chewing up the plaster walls of the narrow corridor.
"The fire escape!" Sophie shouted, pointing toward a window at the far end of the hallway.
They sprinted down the corridor. Lorenzo fired his remaining rounds to suppress the gunmen, then used his heavy boot to kick out the rusty fire escape window.
"Go! I'm right behind you!" Lorenzo ordered.
Sophie climbed out into the pouring rain, her hands gripping the cold, wet iron railing of the fire escape. Below, in the alleyway, two black sedans had blocked off the exit.
"Lorenzo! They have the alley covered!" she yelled over the roar of the rain.
Lorenzo climbed out beside her, slamming the window shut and jamming an iron pipe through the handles to delay the pursuers inside. He looked down at the street, then up toward the roof of the adjacent building.
"We jump to the next roof," Lorenzo said, grabbing a fire axe mounted on the exterior wall.
"Are you crazy?!" Sophie shouted, looking at the four-foot gap between their building and the neighboring rooftop three stories up in a slippery downpour. "If we miss, we die!"
"I won't let you fall," Lorenzo said, meeting her eyes with absolute certainty. "Trust me, Sophia."
He grabbed her hand. His grip was warm, iron-strong, and completely steady.
Together, they sprinted up the final metal steps to the roof of her building. Behind them, the iron pipe on the window snapped under the force of Scalia's hitmen.
"NOW!" Lorenzo yelled.
They leaped into the storm.
For a terrifying second, Sophie felt weightless, the rain beating against her face as the dark alley yawned below her.
Then, her boots slammed onto the gravel surface of the adjacent rooftop. She stumbled on the slick surface, her body sliding toward the edge, but Lorenzo’s powerful arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back into his chest as they tumbled together onto the roof.
They lay there for a moment in the pouring rain, breathing heavily, their bodies pressed tightly against each other.
Sophie looked up into Lorenzo’s face. Rainwater dripped from his dark hair, tracing the sharp angle of his jaw. He was looking down at her with an intensity that made her chest tighten—not from fear, but from a sudden, searing surge of passion that caught them both off guard.
"You okay?" he panted softly, his face inches from hers.
"I'm fine," Sophie whispered, her breath hitching. "You're heavy."
Lorenzo let out a low, breathless laugh, helping her to her feet.
Below, the sounds of shouting hitmen echoed through the street as they realized their targets had vanished across the rooftops.
"My car is parked three blocks away near the avenue," Lorenzo said, pulling his phone from his waterproof pocket and sending a rapid text. "Vince and Matteo are on their way with heavy backup."
Sophie adjusted her coat, looking back at the burning window of her old apartment. Everything she had built in New York—her quiet life, her safe obscurity—was officially gone.
"Where are we going?" she asked quietly.
May you like
Lorenzo took her hand, his thumb gently stroking the gold signet ring now resting on her finger.
"To my estate in Long Island," Lorenzo said, his voice deep and dark with promise. "It's time to stop running, Sophia. Tomorrow, we gather the families of New York. It's time to claim your throne."
